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Hiotogi'aphic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14590 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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D 


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□    Covers  damaged/ 
Cc 


n 


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I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


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□    Coloured  maps/ 
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IBt 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
ncre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


D 


n 


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obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


The 
toti 


The 
posi 
of  tl 
film 


Grig 

begl 

the 

sion 

othc 

first 

sion 

oril 


The 
shai 
TINI 
whi( 

Mar 
difff 
antii 
begl 
righ 
reqii 
met 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Co  document  est  fiimd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

The  copy  filmed  here  he* 
to  the  generosity  off: 


4en  reproduced  thanks 


Dougias  Library 
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L'exempiaire  ffilmA  ffut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
gAnirositi  de: 

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la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifle  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifle  "FIN". 


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entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
fllmto  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  fttre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  film6  A  partir 
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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  la  nombre 
d'Images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mithode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

-a 


'*> 


-..^w 


THI 


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p-y-nrw  W.,w-  f^,  ,,^ 


LAYS  OF  ANCIEIiT  ROME, 

WITH 

IVRY    AND   THE    ARMADA. 


L 


BY 


LOAD  MACAULAY. 

LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISn  CiYALlERS. 

AND  OTHER    POEMS. 


BY 


PROF.  WM.  BDMONDSTOUNE  AYTOUN,  D.c.L. 


From  latest  Unglish  BdiUom. 


Wme»  faint,  1.  1. : 

THE  INTER>^ATIONAL  PHrXTINC  AND  PUBLISHING  CO. 

^ffmctea  in  eTanaUa : 

MONTREAL  :   John  LOvell  •    TORnvTn      A 

HALIFAX,  N.S. :  A.  I  ^^  'JZIT  ' B^^o^^TT^'''^  *  ^^^  • 
MCMILLAN ;    ST   JOHN'^wtt    '  a,  ^'  ^•^••'  •^-  *  ^' 

CHAHLOTTE^r.!'  P^e!;'.  =:  rA^rr  ^  ^ 

1871. 


'If 


r 


i 

1 

*  c^H 

■ 

1 

1 

^^^^m  \ 

: 

-  s 


I) 


r4963 


LAYS  OF  ANCIEl^T  EOME 


WITH 


IVRY   AND    THE    ARMADA. 


BY 


LORD  MACAULAY. 


NEW  EDITION. 

THE  INTERNATmAL  PHINtWanD  PUBLISHING  CO 

1872. 


9303 


PREFACE. 


That  what  is  called  the  history  of  the  Kings  and  early 
Consuls  of  Rome  is  to  a  great  extent  fabulous,  few  scho- 
lars have,  since  the  time  of  Beaufort,  ventured  to  deny. 
It  is  certain  that,  more  than  three  hundred  and  sixty  years 
after  the  date  ordinarily  assigned  for  the  foundation  of  the 
city,  the  public  records  were,  with  scarcely  an  exception, 
destroyed  by  the  Gauls.  It  is  certain  that  the  oldest 
annals  of  the  commonwealth  were  compiled  more  than  a 
century  and  a  half  after  this  destruction  of  the  records. 
It  is  certain,  therefore,  that  the  great  Latin  writers  of 
the  Augustan  age  did  not  possess  those  materials  without 
which  a  trustworthy  account  of  the  infancy  of  the  repub- 
lic could  not  possibly  be  framed.  Those  writers  own, 
indeed,  that  the  chronicles  to  which  they  had  access  were 
filled  with  battles  that  were  never  fought,  and  Consuls 
that  were  never  inaugurated ;  and  we  have  abundant  proof 
that,  in  these  chronicles,  events  of  the  greatest  importance, 
such  as  the  issue  of  the  war  with  Porsena,  and  the  issue 
of  the  war  with  Brennus,  were  grossly  misrepresented. 
Under  these  circumstances,  a  wise  man  will  look  with  great 
suspicion  on  the  legend  which  has  come  down  to  us.  He 
will  perhaps  be  inclined  to  regard  the  princes  who  are 
said  to  have  founded  the  civil  and  religious  institutions 


6 


PREFACE. 


of  Rome,  the  son  of  Mars,  and  the  husband  of  Egcria, 
as  mere  mytliologicul  personages,  of  the  same  class  with 
Perseus  and  Ixion.  As  ho  draws  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  confines  of  authentic  history,  he  will  become  less  and 
less  hard  of  belief.  He  will  admit  that  the  most  impor- 
tant parts  of  the  narrative  have  some  foundation  in  truth. 
But  he  will  distrust  almost  all  the  details,  not  only  because 
they  seldom  rest  on  any  solid  evidence,  but  also  because 
he  will  constantly  detect  in  them,  even  when  they  are 
within  the  limits  of  physical  possibility,  that  peculiar 
character,  more  easily  understood  than  defined,  which 
distinguishes  the  creations  of  the  imagination  from  the 
realities  of  the  world  in  which  we  live. 

The  earl^  history  of  Rome  is  indeed  far  more  poetical 
than  anything  else  in  Latin  literature.     The  loves  of  the 
Vestal  and  the  God  of  War,  the  cradle  laid  among  the 
reeds  of  Tiber,  the  fig-tree,  the  she-wolf,  the  shepherd's 
cabin,  the  recognition,   the  fratricide,   the  rape  of  the 
Sabines,  the  death  of  Tarpeia,  the  fall  of  Hostus  Hosti- 
lius,  the  struggle  of  Mettus  Curtius  through  the  marsh, 
the  women  rushing  with  torn  raiment  and  dishevelled  hair 
between   their  fathers  and  their  husbands,   the  nightly 
meetings  of  Numa  and  the  Nymph  by  the  well  in  the 
sacred  grove,  the  fight  of  the  three  Romans  and  the  three 
Albans,  the  purchase  of  the  Sibylline  books,  the  crime  of 
TuUia,  the  simulated  madness  of  Brutus,  the  ambi'mous 
reply  of  the  Delphian  oracle  to  the  Tarquins,  the  wrongs 
of  Lucretia,   the  heroic  actions  of  Horatius  Codes,   of 
Scasvola,  and  of  Cloelia,  the  battle  of  Regillus  won  by  the 
aid  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  the  defence  of  Cremera,   the 
touching  story  of  Coriolanus,  the  still  more  touching  story 
of  Vii^inia,  the  wild  legend  about  the  draining  of  the 


Egcria, 
ass  with 
carer  to 
less  and 
t  impor- 
n  truth, 
because 
because 
hey  are 
peculiar 
,  which 
rom  the 

poetical 
(  of  the 
3ng  the 
spherd's 

of  the 
!  Hosti- 

marsh, 
led  hair 
nightly 

in  the 
le  three 
rime  of 

5igUOU8 

wrongs 
3les,  of 
by  the 
ra,  the 
g  story 
of  the 


PREFACE.  7 

Alban  lake,  the  combat  between  Valerius  Corvus  and  the 
gigantic  Gaul,  are  among  the  many  instances  which  will 
at  once  suggest  themselves  to  every  reader. 

In  the  narrative  of  Livy,  who  was  a  man  of  fine  imagin- 
ation, these  stories  retain  much  of  their  genuine  character. 
Nor  could  even  the  tasteless  Dionysius  distort  and  mutilate 
them  into  mere  prose.  The  poetry  shines,  in  spite  of 
him,  through  the  dreary  pedantry  of  his  eleven  books.  It 
is  discernible  in  the  most  tedious  and  in  the  most  superfi- 
cial modern  works  on  the  early  t'mes  of  Rome.  It  enlivens 
the  dulness  of  the  Universal  History,  and  gives  a  charm 
to  the  most  meagre  abridgements  of  Goldsmith. 

Even  in  the  age  of  Plutarch  there  were  discerning  men 
who  rejected  the  popular  account  of  the  foundation  of 
Home,  because  that  account  appeared  to  them  to  have  the 
air,  not  of  a  history,  but  of  a  romance  or  a  drama.  Plu- 
tarch, who  was  displeased  at  their  incredulity,  had  nothing 
better  to  say  in  reply  to  their  arguments  than  that  chance 
sometimes  turns  poet,  and  produces  trains  of  events  not 
to  be  distinguished  from  the  most  elaborate  plots  which 
are  constructed  by  art.*  But  though  the  existence  of  a 
poetical  element  in  the  early  history  of  the  Great  City 
was  detected  so  many  years  ago,  the  first  critic  who 
distinctly  saw  from  what  source  that  poetical  element 

*  "Tttotttov  /lev  evioig  earl  rb  SpafiariKov  koX  TrTiaa/nar&dEc  ov 
Set  6e  UKiareiv,  rfjv  Tvxnv  opavrag,  o'iuv  irm^/idruv  drifiiovpydq  eari. 
— Plut.  Rom.  viii.  This  remarkable  passage  has  been  more  grossly 
misinterpreted  than  any  other  in  the  Greek  language,  where  the 
sense  was  so  obvious.  The  Latin  version  of  Cruserius,  the  French 
version  of  Amyot,  the  old  English  version  by  several  hands,  and 
the  later  English  version  by  Langhorne,  are  all  equally  destitute 
of  every  trace  of  the  meaning  of  the  original.  None  of  the  transla- 
tors saw  even  that  Tcoirjiia  is  a  poem.    They  all  render  it  an  event, 


8 


PREFACE. 


I 


hid  been  derived  was  James  Pcrizonius,  one  of  the  most 

acute  and  leurned  antiquaries  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

His  theory,  which,  in  his  own  days,  attracted  little  or  no 

notice,  was  revived  in  the  present  ^'cneration  by  Niebuhr, 

a  man  who  would  have  been  the  first  writer  of  his  time, 

if  his  talent  for  communicating  truths  had  borne  any 

proportion  to  his  talent  for  investigating  them.     That 

tiieory  has  been  adopted  by  several  eminent  scholars  of 

our  own  country,  particularly  by  the  Bishop  of  St.  David's, 

by  Professor  Maiden,  and  by  the  lamented  Arnold.     It 

appears  to  bo  now  generally  received  by  men  conversant 

with  classical  antiquity ;  and  indeed  it  rests  on  such  strong 

proofs,  both  internal  and  external,  thatit  will  not  be  easily 

subverted.     A  popular  exposition  of  this  theory,  and  of 

the  evidence  by  which  it  is  supported,  may  not  be  without 

interest  even  for  readers  who  are  unacquainted  with  the 

ancient  languages. 

The  Latin  literature  which  has  come  down  to  us  is  of 
later  date  than  the  commencement  of  the  Second  Punic 
War,  and  consists  almost  exclusively  of  works  fashioned 
on  Greek  models.  The  Latin  metres,  heroic,  elegiac,  lyric, 
and  dramatic,  are  of  Greek  origin.  The  best  Latin  epic 
poetry  is  the  feeble  echo  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  The 
best  Latin  eclogues  are  imitations  of  Theocritus.  The 
plan  of  the  most  finished  didactic  poem  in  the  Latin  tongue 
was  taken  from  Hesiod.  The  Latin  tragedies  are  bad 
copies  of  the  masterpieces  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides. 
The  Latin  comedies  are  free  translations  from  Demophilus, 
Menander,  and  Appollodorus.  The  Latin  philosophy  was 
borrowed,  without  alteration,  from  the  Portico  and  the 
Academy  ;  and  the  great  Latin  orators  constantly  pro- 
posed to  themselves  as  patterns  the  speeches  pf  Demos- 
thenes and  Lysias. 


I 


PREFACE,  ^ 

But  there  was  an  earner  Latin  literature,  a  literature 
truly  Latin,  which  has  wholly  perished,  which  had,  indeed, 
almost  wholly  perished  ion^'  before  those  whom  we  are  in 
the  habit  of  rogardinj;  as  the  greatest  Latin  writers  were 
born.  That  literature  abounded  with  metrical  romances, 
such  aa  are  found  in  every  country  where  there  is  much 
curiosity  and  intelligence,  but  little  reading  and  writing. 
All  human  beings,  not  utterly  savage,  long  for  some  infor- 
mation about  past  times,  and  are  delighted  by  narratives 
which  present  pictures  to  the  eye  of  the  mind.  But  it  is 
only  in  very  enlightened  communities  that  books  are  read- 
ily accessible.  Metrical  composition,  therefore,  which,  in 
a  highly  civilised  nation,  is  a  mere  luxury,  is,  in  nations 
imperfectly  civilised,  almost  a  necessary  of  life,  and  is 
valued  less  on  account  of  the  pleasure  which  it  gives  to 
the  ear,  than  on  account  of  the  help  which  it  gives  to  the 
memory.  A  man  who  can  invent  or  embellish  an  interest- 
ing story,  and  put  it  into  a  form  which  others  may  easily 
retain  in  their  recollection,  will  always  be  highly  esteemed 
by  a  people  eager  for  amusement  and  information,  but 
destitute  of  libraries.  Such  is  the  origin  of  ballad-poetry, 
a  species  of  composition  which  scarcely  ever  fails  to  spring 
up  and  flourish  in  every  society,  at  a  certain  point  in  the 
progress  towards  refinement.  Tacitus  informs  us  that 
songs  were  the  only  memorials  of  the  past  which  the 
ancient  Germans  possessed.  IVe  learn  from  Lucan  and 
from  Ammianus  Marcellinus  that  the  brave  actions  of  the 
ancient  Gauls  were  commemorated  in  the  verses  of  Bards. 
During  many  ages,  and  through  many  revolutions,  min- 
strelsy retained  its  influence  over  both  the  Teutonic  and 
the  Celtic  race.  The  vengeance  exacted  by  the  spouse  of 
Attila  for  the  murder  of  Siegfried  was  celebrated  in 


10 


PREFACE. 


rhymes,  of  which  Germany  is  still  justly  proud.     The 
exploits  of  Athelstane  were  commemorated  by  the  Ano-Io 
Saxons  and    hose  of  Canute  by  the  Danes,  in  rude  poems, 
ot  which  a  few  fragments  have  come  down  to  us      The 
chants  of  the  Welsh  harpers  preserved,  through  ages  of 
darkness,  a  faint  and  doubtful  memory  of  Arthur      In 
the  Highlands  of  Scotland  may  still  be  gleaned  some  relics 
ot  the  old  songs  about  Cuthullin  and  Fingal.     The  lono- 
stiuggle  of  the  Servians  against  the  Ottoman  power  was 
recorded  in  lays  full  of  martial  spirit.     We  learn  from 
Herrera  that  when  a  Pe/uvian  Inoa  died,  men  of  skill  were 
appointed  to  celebrate  him  in  verses,  which  all  the  people 
learned  by  heart,  and  sang  in  public  on  days  of  festival 
The  feats  of  Kurroglou,  the  great  freebooter  of  Turkistan 
recounted  in  ballads  composed  by  himself,  are  known  'm 
every  village  of  Northern  Persia.     Captain  Beechey  heard 
the  Bards  of  the  Sandwich    Islands  recite   the   heroio 
achievements  of  Tamehameha,  the  most  illustrious  of  thf^ip 
kings.     Mungo  Park  found  in  the  heart  of  Africa  a  class 
of  singing  men,  the  only  annalists  of  their  rude  tribes,  and 
heard  them  tell  the  story  of  the  victory  which  Darnel,  the 
negro  prince  of  the  Jaloflfs,  won  over  Abdulkader    the 
Mussulmaa  tyrant  of  Foof^i  Torra.    This  species  of  poetry 
attained  a  high  degree  of  excellence  among  the  Castilians, 
before  tJiey  began  to  copy  Tuscan  patterns.     It  attained 
a  still  higher  degree  of  excellence  among  the  English  and 
the  Lowland  Scotch,  curing  the  fourteenth,  fifteenth,  and 
sixteenth  centuries.     Sut  it  reached  its  full  perfection  in 
ancient  Greece ;  for  there  can  be  m  doubt  that  th'i  great 
Homeric  poems  are  generically  ballads,  though  widely  dis- 
tinguished from  all  other  ballads,  and  indeed  from  almost 

'  fiamaa  wmpoBiuoua,  »y  iransoeiideut  sublimity 

and  beauty.  ^ 


:,*'^"'-       vy.      -. 


PREFACE. 


11 


As  it  is  agreeable  to  general  experience  that,  at  a  cer- 
tain stage  in  the  progress  of  society,  ballad-poetry  should 
flourish,  so  is  it  also  agreeable  to  general  experience  that, 
at  a  subsequent  stage  in  the  progress  of  society,  ballad- 
poetry  should  be  undervalued  and  neglected.     Knowledge 
advances  :  manners  change :  great  foreign  models  of  com- 
position are  studied  and  imitated.     The  phraseology  of 
the  Old  minstrels  becomes  obsolete.     Their  versification, 
which,  having  received  its  laws  only  from  the  3ar,  abounds 
in  irregularities,  seems  licentious  and  uncjuth.     Their 
simplicity  appears  beggarly   when   compr^red   with  the 
quaint  forms  and  gaud^  colouring  of  such  artists  as  Cow- 
ley and  Gongora.     The  ancient  lays,  unjustly  despised  by 
the  learned  and  polite,  linger  for  a  time  in  the  memory  of 
the  vulgar,  and  are  at  length  too  often  irretrievably  lost. 
We  cannot  wonder  that  the  ballads  of  Rome  should  have 
altogether  disappeared,   when   we  remember   how  very 
narrowly,  in  spite  of  the  invention  of  printing,  those  of 
our  own  country  and  those  of  Spain  escaped  the  same  fate. 
There  is  indeed  little  doubt  that  oblivion  covers  many 
English  songs  equal  to  any  that  were  published  by  Bishop 
Percy,  and  many  Spanish  songs  as  good  as  the  best  of 
thosf)  which  have  been   so  happily  translated  by   Mr. 
Lockhart.     Eighty  years  ago  England  possessed  only  one 
tattered  copy  of  Childe  Waters,  and  Sir  Cauline,  and 
Spain  only  one  tattered  copy  of  the  noble  poem  of  the  Cid. 
The  snuff  of  a  candle,  or  a  mischievous  dog,  might  in  a 
moment  have  deprived  the  world  for  ever  of  any  of  those 
fine  composition3.     Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  united  to  the 
fire  of  a  great  poet  the  minute  curiosity  and  patient  dili- 
gence of  a  orent,  antimmrv    tooq  Kiif   i«af  \^  i'-r^a  ^^ 

~-  13 --' — 1  —  J  J  »--.f  r.-ii.t  juau  ill  time  tO  suvtj 

the  precious  relics  of  the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Border.     In 


12 


PREFACE. 


Germany,  the  lay  of  the  Nibelunga  had  been  long  utterly 
forgotten,  when,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  it  was  for  the 
first  time  printed  from  a  manuscript  in  the  old  library 
of  a  noble  family.  In  truth,  the  only  people  who,  through 
their  whole  passage  from  simplicity  to  the  highest  qivili- 
sation,  never  for  a  moment  ceased  to  love  and  admire  their 
old  ballads,  were  the  Greeks. 

.  That  the  early  Romans  should  have  had  ballad-poetry 
and  that  this  poetry  should  have  perished,  is  therefore 
not  strange.  It  would,  on  the  contrary,  have  been  strange 
If  these  things  had  not  come  to  pass;  and  we  should  be 
justified  in  pronouncing  them  highly  probable,  even  if  we 
,  had  no  direct  evidence  on  the  subject.  But  we  have 
direct  evidence  of  unquestionable  authority. 

Ennius,  who  flourished  in  the  time  of  the  Second  Punic 
War,  was  regarded  in  the  Augustan  age  as  the  father  of 
Latin  poetry.     He  was,  in  truth,  the  father  of  the  second 
school  of  Latin  poetry,  the  only  school  of  which  the  works 
have  descended  to  us.     But  from  Ennius  himself  we  learn 
that  there  were  poets  who  stood  to  him  in  the  same  rela- 
tion in  which  the  author  of  the  romance  of  Count  Alarcos 
stood  to  Garcilaso,  or  the  author  of  the  'Lytell  Geste  of 
Robyn  Hode  '  to  Lord  Surrey.     Ennius  speaks  of  verses 
which  the  Fauns  and  the  Bards  were  wont  to  chant  in  the 
old  time,  when  none  had  yet  studied  the  graces  of  speech 
when  none   had  yet  climbed    the  peaks  sacred  to  the 
Goddesses  r^  Grecian  song.     '  Where, '  Cicero  mournfully 
asks,  '  are  those  old  verses  now  ?  '  * 

Contemporary  with  Ennius  was  Quintus  Fabius  Pictor 
the  earliest  of  the  Roman  annalists.     His  account  of  the 
*  '  Quid  ?    Nostri  ve teres  versus  ubi  sunt  ? 

♦       •       •       •       •       .       "  QuOa  Olim   Faiini  irotonrt.ia  ^,,»>«l i. 

-"       - •  •™t^-w|«v  voiucwaiit. 


PREFACE. 


la 


infancy  and  youth  of  Romulus  and  Remus  has  been 
preserved  by  Dionysius,  and  contains  a  very  remarkable 
reference  to  the  ancient  Latin  poetry.  Fahius  says  that 
in  his  time  his  countrymen  were  still  in  the  habit  of 
singing  ballads  about  the  Twins.  '  Even  in  the  hut  of 
Faustulus,' — so  these  old  lays  appear  to  have  run,— 'the 
children  of  Rhea  and  Mars  were,  in  port  and  in  spirit, 
not  like  unto  swineherds  or  cowherds,  but  such  that  men 
might  well  guess  them  to  be  of  the  blood  of  Kings  and 
Gods.'  * 

Cum  neque  Musarum  scopulos  quisquam  superslrat, 
Nee  dicti  stucjiosus  erat." '  Brutus  xviii. 

The  Muses,  it  should  be  observed,  are  Greek  divinities.  The  Italian 
Goddesses  of  verse  were  the  Oamoenae.  At  a  later  period,  the 
appellations  were  used  indiscrimiftately;  but  in  the  age  of  Ennius 
there  was  probably  a  distinction.  In  the  opitaph  of  Nievius,  who 
was  the  representative  of  the  old  Italian  school  of  poetry,  the 
Camoenae,  not  the  Muses,  are  represented  as  grieving  for  the  loss 
of  their  votary.  The  '  Musarum  scopuli '  are  evidently  the  peaks  of 
Parnassus. 

Scaliger,  in  a  note  on  Varro  (Z?e  Lingua  Latino.,  lib.  vi.), 
suggests,  with  great  ingenuity,  that  the  Fauns,  who  were  repre- 
sented by  the  superstition  of  later  ages  as  a  race  of  monsters,  half 
gods  and  half  brutes,  may  really  have  been  a  class  of  men  who 
exercised  in  Latium,  at  a  very  remote  period,  the  same  functions 
which  belonged  to  the  Magians  in  Persia  and  to  the  Bards  in  Gaul. 

*  01  6e  avSpudevreg  yivovrai,  Kard  re  a^iuaiv  fiopcp^g  Kal  <ppov^/ia- 
Tog  byKov^  oh  avo<pop^oig  Kai  ^ovaoloLg  hiKoreg,  aW  olovg  av  rig 
a^iaaeie  rovg  eK  pamleiov  re  ^iivrag  yevovg,  Kal  arrb  Samdvav  OTCopag 
yevEodat  vo/^iCofiEvovc,  ojg  'v  To7.g  narpiotg  Vfivoig  vnb  'Pujuaiuv  en 
Kal  vi'v  aSera/.—Dion.  Hal.  i.  79.  This  passage  has  sometimes  been 
cited  as  if  Dionysius  had  been  speaking  in  his  own  person,  and 
had,  Greek  as  he  was,  bee  a  so  industrious  or  so  fortunate  as  to 
discover  some  valuable  remains  of  that  early  Latin  poetry  which 
the  greatest  Latin  writers  of  his  age  regrptted  as  b.opelnHsIy  lost. 
Such  a  siippositioa  i$  highly  improbable^  and  i^^eedit  seems  clear 


14 


PREFACE. 


Cato  the  Censor,  who  also  lived  in  the  days  of  the 
Second  Punic  War,  mentioned  this  lost  literature  in  his 
from  the  context- that  Dionysius,  as  Reiske  and  other  editors 
evidently  thought,  was  merely  quoting  from  Fabius  Pictor.  The 
whole  passage  has  the  air  of  an  extract  from  an  ancient  chronicle 
and  IS  introduced  by  the  words,  ^L^vro^  f,^ev  ^d^co^^  6  UUrJ 
AeydfiEvog,  ryde  ypA^ei. 

Another  argument  may  be  urged  which  seems  to  deserve  consi- 
deration.   The  author  of  the  passage  in  question  mentions  a 
thatched  hut  which,  in  his  time,  stood  between  the  summit  of 
Mount  Palatine  and  the  Circus.    This  hut,  he  says,  was  built  by 
Romulus,  and  was  constantly  kept  in  repair  at  the  public  charge 
but  never  in  any  respect  embellished.  Now,  in  the  age  of  Dionysiua 
there  certainly  was  at  Rome  a  thatched  hut,  said  to  have  been  that 
of  Romulus.    But  this  hut,  as  we  learn  from  Vitruvius,  stood,  not 
near  the  Circus,  but  in  the  Capitol.    (^  ii.  l.)    If,  therefore   we 
understand  Dionysius  to  speak  in  his  own  person,  we  can  reconcile 
his  statement  with  that  of  Vitruvius  only  by  supposing  that  there 
were  at  Rome,  in  the  \  ugustan  age,  two  thatched  huts,  both  believed 
to  have  been  built  by  Romulns,  and  both  carefully  repaired  and  held 
in  high  honour.    The  objections  to  such  a  supposition  seem  to  be 
strong.    Neither  Dionysius  nor  Vitruvius  speaks  of  more  than  one 
such  hut.    Dio  Cassius  informs  us  that  twice,  during  the  lonj? 
administration  of  Augustus,  the  hut  of  Romulus  caught  fire 
(xlviii.  43,  liv.  29.)    Had  there  been  two  such  huts,  would  he  not 
have  told  us  of  which  he  spoke?    An  English  historian  would 
hardly  give  an  account  of  a  fire  at  Queen's  College  without  saying 
whether  it  was  at  Queen's  College,  Oxford,  or  at  Queen's  College 
Cambridge.  Marcus  Seneca,  Macrobius,  and  Conon,  a  Greek  writer 
from  whom  Photius  has  made  large  extracts,  mention  only  one  hut 
of  Romulus,  that  in  the  Capitol.   (J/.  Seneca  Contr.  i.  6. ;  Macrobius, 
SaLu  15.-PhoUus,  Bibl.  186.)    Ovid,  Livy,  Petronius,  Valerius 
Maximus,  Lucius  Seneca,  and  St.  Jerome,  mention  only  one  hut  of 
Romulus,  without  specifying  the  site.    (^Ovid.  Fasti  iii  183  •  Liv 
V  53. ;  Petronius  Fragm.;  Val.  Max.  iv.  4.  ;  L,  Seneca,  Consolati'o 
ad  Helotam ;  D.  Ilieron  ad  PauUnianum  de  Didymo.)    ■ 

The  whole  difficulty  is  removed,  if  we  suppose  that  Dionysius 
was  merely  quoting  Fabius  Pictor.  Nothing  is  more  probable  than 

that.  t.nA  rnhin    ■mliinVi  Jn  +V.«  +:~.-  -.r -ri-t-!--     . 

,  „,-!^.,  .„  „„^  li^c  ui  ^iiuius  sxooa  near  the  Circus 


PREFACE. 


16 


lost  work  on  the  antiquities  of  his  country.  Many  ages 
he  said,  before  his  time,  there  were  ballads  in  praise  of 
illustrious  men ;  and  these  ballads  it  was  the  fashion  for 
the  guests  at  banquets  to  sing  in  turn  while  the  piper 
played.  '  Would,'  exclaims  Cicero,  '  that  we  still  had  the 
old  ballads  of  which  Cato  speaks ! '  * 

Valerius  Maximus  gives  us  exactly  similar  information, 
without  mentioning  his  authority,  and  observes  that  the 
ancient  Roman  ballads  were  probably  of  more  benefit  to 
the  young  than  all  the  lectures  of  the  Athenian  schools, 
and  that  to  the  influence  of  the  national  poetry  were  to 

might,  long  before  the  age  of  Augustus,  have  been  transported  to 
the  Capitol,  as  the  place  fittest,  by  reason  both  of  its  safety  and  of 
its  sanctity,  to  contain  so  precious  a  relic. 

The  language  ofPlutarch  confirms  this  hypothesis.  Ee  describes, 
with  great  precision,  the  spot  where  Romulus  dwelt,  on  the  slope' 
of  Mount  Palatine  leading  to  the  Circus  ;  but  he  says  not  a  word 
implying  that  the  dwelling  was  still  to  be  seen  there.  Indeed,  his 
expressions  imply  that  it  was  no  longer  there.  The  evidence  of 
Solinus  is  still  more  to  the  point.  He,  like  Plutarch,  describes  the 
spot  where  Romulus  had  resided,  and  says  expressly  that  the  hut 
had  been  there,  but  that  in  his  time  it  was  there  no  longer.  The 
site,  it  is  certain,  was  well  remembered  ;  and  probably  retained  its 
old  name,  as  Charing  Cross  and  the  Haymarket  have  done.  This 
is  probably  the  explanation  of  the  words  'casa  Romuli,'  in  Victor's 
description  of  the  Tenth  Region  of  Rome,  under  Valentinian. 

*  Cicero  refers  twice  to  this  important  passage  in  Cato's  Anti- 
quities:—' Gravissimus  auctor  in  Originibus  dixit  Cato,  morem 
apud  majores  huac  epularum  fuisse,  ut  deinceps,  qui  accubarent, 
canerent  ad  tibiam  clarorum  virorum  laudes  atque  virtutes.  Ex 
quo  perspicuum  est,  et  cantus  tum  fuisse  rescriptos  vocum  sonis, 
et  carraina.'— r?^sc.  Qus(ist:i\.2.  Again:  ' Utinam  exstarent  ilia 
carmina,  quae,  multis  saecul-:s  ante  suam  setatem,  in  epulis  esse 
cantitata  a  singulis  convivi.  i  j  clarorum  virorum  laudibus,  in 
Originibus  scriptum  reliquit  G&io.'—Brutun^  xi2= 


•'♦•'■•>*s 


16 


PREFACE. 


be  ascribed  the  virtues  of  such  men  as  Cnmillus  and 
Fabricius.* 

Varro,  whose  authority  on  all  questions  connected  with 
the  antiquities  of  his  country  is  entitled  to  the  greatest 
respect,  tells  us  that  at  banquets  it  was  once  the  fashion 
for  boys  to  sing,  sometimes  with  and  sometimes  without 
instrumental  music,  ancient  ballads  in  praise  of  men  of 
former  times.  These  young  performers,  he  observes^  were 
of  unblemished  character,  a  circumstance  which  he  pro- 
bably mentioned  because,  among  the  Greeks,  and  indeed 
in  his  time  among  the  Romtms  also,  the  morals  of  singing 
boys  were  in  no  high  repute.f 

The  testimony  of  Horace,  though  given  incidentally, 
confirms  the  statements  of  Cato,  Valerius  Maximus,  and 
Varro.  The  poet  predicts  that,  under  the  peaceful 
administration  of  Augustus,  the  Romans  will,  over  their 
full  goblets,  sing  to  the  pipe,  after  the  fashion  of  their 
fathers,  the  deeds  of  brave  captains,  and  the  ancient 
legends  touching  the  origin  of  the  city.J 

*  'Majores  natu  in  conviviis  ad  tibias  egregia  superiorum  opera 
carmine  comprehensa  pangebant,  quo  ad  ea  imitanda  juventutem 
alacriorem  redderent. . . .  Quas  Athenas,  quam  scholam,  quae  alieni- 
gena  studia  huic  domesticae  discipline  praBtulerim  ?  Inde  oriebantur 
Camilli,  Scipiones,  Fabricii,  Marcelli,  Fabii.'— Fa^.  Max.  ii.  1. 

t '  In  conviviis  pueri  modesti  ut  cantarent  carmina  antiqua,  in 
quibus  laudes  erant  majorum,  et  assa  voce,  et  cum  tibicine.' 
Nonius,  Assa  voce  pro  sola. 

X '  Nosque  et  profestis  lucibus  et  sacris, 
Inter  jocosi  munera  Liberi, 

Cum  prole  matronisque  nostris, 
Rite  Deos  prius  apprecati, 
Virtute  functos,  more  patrum.  duces, 
Lydis  remixto  carmine  tibiis, 

Trojamque,  et  Anchisen,  et  almjB 
Frogeniem  Veaerici  caueuius.' 
»  Carm.  ir,  15. 


PREFACE. 


17 


The  proposition,  then,  that  Rome  had  ballad-poetry  is 
not  merely  in  itself  highly  probable,  but  is  fully  proved  by 
direct  evidence  of  the  greatest  weight. 

This  proposition  being  established,  it  becomes  easy  to 
understand  why  the  early  history  of  the  city  is  unlike 
almost  everything  else  in  Latin  literature,  native  where 
almost  everything  else  is  borrowed,  imaginative  where 
almost  everything  else  is  prosaic.  We  can  scarcely  hesi- 
tate to  pronounce  that  the  magnificent,  pathetic,  and  truly 
national  legends,  which  present  so  striking  a  contrast  to 
all  that  surrounds  them,  are  broken  and  defaced  fragments 
of  that  early  poetry  which,  even  in  the  age  of  Cato  the 
Censor,  had  become  antiquated,  and  of  which  Tully  had 
never  heard  a  line. 

That  this  poetry  should  have  been  suffered  to  perish 
will  not  appear  strange  when  we  consider  how  complete 
was  the  triumph  of  the  Greek  genius  over  the  public  mind 
of  Italy.  It  is  probable  that,  at  an  early  period,  Homer 
and  Herodotus  furnished  some  hints  to  the  Latin  min- 
strels:* but  it  was  not  till  after  the  war  with  Pyrrhus 
that  the  poetry  of  Rome  began  to  put  off  its  old  Ausonian 
character.  The  transformation  was  soon  consummated. 
The  conquered,  says  Horace,  led  captive  the  conquerors. 
It  was  precisely  at  the  time  at  which  the  Roman  people 
rose  to  unrivalled  political  a3<3endency  that  they  stooped  to 
pass  under  the  intellectual  yoke.  It  was  precisely  at  the 
time  at  which  the  sceptre  departed  from  Greece  that  the 
empire  of  her  language  and  of  her  arts  became  universal 
and  despotic.  The  revolution  indeed  was  not  effected 
without  a  struggle.  Naevius  seems  to  have  been  the  last 
of  the  ancient  line  of  poets.  Ennius  was  the  founder  of  a 
*  See  the  Preface  to  the  Lay  of  the  Battle  of  Regillus. 


18 


PREFACE. 


r 


i 


new  dynasty.     NaDvius  celebrated  the  First  Punic  War  in 
Saturniun  verse,  the  old  national  verse  of  Italy.*     Ennius 

•  Cicero  speaks  highly  in  more  than  one  place  of  this  poem  of 
Naerms ;  Enn.us  sneered  at  it.  and  stole  from  it. 
Jiftrill  ^-  ^*'"''"^*'^  measure/see  Hermann's  Elementa  Doctrine, 

xJ^I^T'tTI'"'".'  '"''"''^^"^  *°  *^'  grammarians,  consisted  of 
two  parts.  The  first  was  a  catalectic  dimeter  iambic  ;  the  second 
was  composed  of  three  trochees.  But  the  licence  tiken  byThe 
early  Latin  poets  seems  to  have  been  almost  boundless.  The  most 
perfect  Saturman  line  which  has  been  preserved  was  the  work,  not 
of  a  professional  artist,  but  of  an  amateur : 

' Dabunt  malum  Metelli  xVasvio  poetae ' 
There  has  been  much  difference  of  opinion  among  learned  men 
respectmg  the  history  of  this  measure.    That  it  is  fhe  same  with 
a  Greek  measure  used  by  Archilochus  is  indisputable.    (Bentlev 

doubt  whether  the  coincidence  was  not  fortuitous.    We  constantly 
find  the  same  rude  and  simple  numbers  in  different  countries,  under 
circumstances  which  make  it  impossible  to  suspect  that  th  re  ha 
been  imitation  on  e  ther  side.    Bishop  Heber  heard  the  children  of 

hnv  bT  '"f  "f  ^  '"^'"^  '^"^^^'  «^^^^''  'o  the  tune  of  'My 
boy  Billy.'  Neither  the  Castilian  nor  the  Geman  minstrels  of  S 
middle  ages  owed  anything  to  Paros  or  to  ancient  Rome  Yel 
ooth  the  poem  of  the  Cid  and  the  poem  of  the  Nibelunrcontefn 
many  Saturnian  verses ;  as,~  ^^^"eiungs  contain 

'  Estas  nuevas  ^i  mio  Cid  eran  venidas ' 
'A  mi  lo  dicen ;  k  ti  dan  las  orejadas  ' 
'Man  mohte  michel  wunder  von  Sifride  sagen  ' 
Wa  ich  den  Kunic  vinde  daz  sol  man  mir  sagen ' 

Indeed,  there  cannot  be  a  more  perfect  Saturnian  line  than  one 

which  IS  sung  in  every  English  nursery- 

.»*  iJ^^  ^"e^^n/as  in  hei  parlour  eating  bread  and  honey  • ' 


PREFACE. 


19 


sang  the  Second  Punic  War  in  numbers  borrowed  from 
the  Iliad.     The  elder  poet,  in  the  epitaph  which  he  wrote 

may  have  visited  Sybaris  or  Crotona,  may  have  heard  some  verses 
of  Archilochus  sung,  may  have  been  pleased  with  the  metre,  and 
may  have  introduced  it  at  Rome.  Thus  much  is  certain,  that  the 
Saturnian  measure,  if  not  a  native  of  Italy,  was  at  least  so  early 
and  so  completely  naturalised  there  that  its  foreign  origin  was 
forgotten. 

iJentley  says  indeed  that  the  Saturuian  measure  was  first  brought 
from  Greece  into  Italy  by  Nasvius.  But  this  is  merely  obiter  dictum. 
to  use  a  phrase  common  in  our  courts  of  law,  and  would  not  have 
been  deliberately  maintained  by  that  incomparable  critic,  whose 
memory  is  held  la  reverence  by  all  lovers  of  learning.  The  argu- 
ments which  might  be  brought  against  Bentley's  assertion— for  it 
is  mere  assertion,  supported  by  no  evidence— are  innumerable  A 
few  will  suffice. 

1.  Bentley's  assertion  is  opposed  to  the  testimony  of  Ennius. 
Ennius  sneered  at  Naevius  for  writing  on  the  First  Punic  War  in 
verses  such  as  the  old  Italian  Bards  used  before  Greek 
had  been  studied.     -iHow  the  poem  of  Njevius  was 
verse.    Is  it  possible  that  Ennius  could  have 
if  the  Saturnian  verse  had  been  just  imr 
first  time  ? 

2.  Bentley^s  assertion 
'When  Greece,' 
vilised  country, 
Would  Horace  h 
imported  frqr., ^ 

"-^T^Sentle;!^  's  asser 
Aurelius  Victor, 


unci- 

passed  away.' 

h  numbers  had  been 

exameter  ? 

to  the  testimony  of  Festus  and  of 

'hom  positively  say  that  the  most  ancient 


prophecies  attributed  lo  the  Fauns  were  in  Saturnian  verse. 

4.  Bentleys  assertion  is  opposed  to  tho  testimony  of  Terentianus 
Maurus,  to  whom  he  has  himself  appealed.  Terentianus  Maurus 
docs  indeed  say  that  the  Saturnian  measure,  though  believed  by 
the  Romans  from  a  very  early  period  ('  credidit  vetustas')  to  be  of 
Italian  invention,  was  really  borrowed  from  the  Greeks.  But 
Terentianus  Maurus  does  not  say  that  it  was  first  borrowed  by 
Naevius.    Nay,  the  expressions  used  by  Terentianus  Maurus  clearly 


Nj 


I 


20 


PREFACE. 


for  himself,  and  which  is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  early 
lloman  diction  and  versification,  plaintively  boasted  that 
the  Latin  language  had  died  with  him  *     Thus  what  to 
Horace  appeared  to  be  the  first  faint  dawn  of  Roman 
literature,  appeared  to  Naevius  to  be  its  hopeless  setting. 
In  truth,  one  literature  was  setting,  and  another  dawning. 
The   victory   of  the  foreign  taste  was  decisive ;  and 
indeed  we  can  hardly  blame  the  Romans  for  turning  away 
with  contempt  from  the  rude  lays  which  had  delighted 
their  fathers,  and  giving  their  whole  admiration  to  the 
immortal  productions  of  Greece.     The  national  romances, 
neglected  by  the  great  and  the  refined  whose  education 
had  been  finished  at  Rhodes  or  Athens,  continued,  it  may 
be  supposed,  during  some  generations,  to  delight  the 
vulgar.     While  Virgil,  in  hexameters  of  exquisite  modu- 
ktion,  described  the  sports  of  rustics,  those,  rustics  were 
jnging  their  w'ld   Saturnian  ballads.f     It  is  not 
''^,  at  the  time  when  Cicero  lamented  the 
"  'i^oems  mentioned  by  Cato,  a  search 
^ines,  as  active  as  the  search 
gg  the  descendants  of 


w 

the  mos 


.■s-'to^. 


lave  brought  to 


imply  the  contrary :  forWlB^^MaaP.  have  believed,  from 
a  very  early  period,  that  thisT^Ba^gMindigeno^:-  Droduc- 
tion  of  Latium,  if  it  was  really  broJfUler  from  Greece  in  an 
Zhl  P       ^T  ^°^  ^^''^^  ^"'^"^^*y'  ^^  *^«  ^Se  which  gave 

wr   er«  7     Tfp'    ."  "''  ''"'"  *''  ^^"^°^'  «"^  °*^«^  distmguished 
wruers?    If  Bentley's  assertion  were  correct,  there  could  have 

been  no  more  doubt  at  Rome  about  the  Greek  origin  of  the  Satur- 

*  Aulus  Gellius,  Noctes  Atticse,  i.  24. 
t  See  Servius.  in  ftAornr  a  oqk 


PREFACE.  21 

light  many  fine  remains  of  ancient  minstrelsy.     No  such 
search  was  made.     The  Latin  ballads  perished  for  ever 
ret  discerning  critics  have  thought  that  they  could  still 
percerve  m  the  early  history  of  Rome  numerous  fragments 
ot  this  lost  poetry,   as  the  traveller  on  classic  ground 
sometimes  finds,  built  into  the  heavy  wall  of  a  fort  or 
convent   a  pillar  rich  with  acanthus  leaves,  or  a  frieze 
where  the  Amajeons  and  Bacchanals  seem  to  live      The 
theatres  and  temples  of  the  Greek  and  the  Roman  were 
degraded  into  the  quarries  of  the  Turk  and  the  Goth 
Lven  so  did  the  ancient  Saturnian  poetry  become  the' 
quarry  m  which  a  crowd  of  orators  and  annalists  found 
the  materials  for  their  prose. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  trace  the  process  by  which  the  old 
songs  were  transmuted  into  the  form  which  they  now 
wear.  Funeral  panegyric  and  chronicle  appear  to  have 
been  the  intermediate  links  which  connected  the  lost 
ballads  with  the  histories  now  extant.  From  a  vei 
period  it  was  the  usage  that  an  oratioi 
nounced  over  the  remains  of  a  "  "^ 
as  we  learn  from  Pt 

occasion  to  reca|,^ 

tors      the  deceaa^^^^^^^^^^^HB^^^'^^' 

to  the  commpj;«^y^^^^MipPf^^t:  'T^'""'^ 
^.v.--*r-^^^ /^^^^■P^'^^t^le  doubt  that  the 

o^er  on  whom  tlWWTwas  imposed,  would  make  use 

of  all  the  stories  suited  to  his  purpose  which  were  to  be 

tound  in  the  popular  lays.     There  can  be  as  little  doubt 

that  the  family  of  an  eminent  man  would  preserve  a  copy 

of  the  speech  which  had  been  pronounced  over  his  corpse 

The  compilers  of  the  early  chronicles  would  have  recourse 

to  these  speeches ;  and  the  great  historians  of  a  later 

period  would  have  recourse  to  the  chronicles. 


!>•»•; 


PREFACE. 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  fleleot  a  particular  Btory,  an5 
to  trace  its  probable  progress  through  these  stages.     The 
description  of  the  migration  of  the  Fubian  house  t  /  Cre- 
mora  is  one  of  the  finest  of  the  many  fine  passages  which 
lie  thick  in  the  earlier  books  of  Livy.     The  Consul,  clad 
in  his  military  garb,  stands  in  the  vestibule  of  his  house, 
marshalling  his  clun,  three  hundred  and  six  fighting  men, 
all  of  the  same  proud  patrician  blood,  all  worthy  to  be 
attended  by  the  fasces,  and  to  command  the  legions.     A 
sad   and    anxious   retinue    of   friends   accompanies   the 
adventurers  through  the  streets ;  but  the  voice  of  lamen- 
tation is  drowned  by  tlie  shouts  of  admiring  thousands. 
As  the  procession  passes  the  Capitol,  prayers  and  vows  are 
poured  forth,  but  in  vain.     The  devoted  band,  leaving 
Janus  on  the  right,  marches  to  its  doom  through  the  Gate 
of  Evil  Lu  \.     After  achieving   high  deeds  of  valour 
against  over»vhelming  numbers,  all  perish  save  one  child, 
jkfrom  which  the  great  Fabian  race  was  destined 
the  safety  and  glory  of  the  common- 
jmance,  the  details  of  which  are 
destitute  of  all 
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^      from  some  lay 
which  had'  '^^^WQHHHj^^^^l^'  applause  at  ban- 
quets, is  in  the  high^H^lHHp^  ^Nor  is  it  diffi- 
cult to  imagine  a  mode  in  whicfflHf  transmi  -  ri  rtm  raif^lit' 
have  taken  place.     The  celebrated  Quintus  F-ibiu  :  M,.xi- 
mus,  who  died  about  twenty  years  before  the  r  irat  Punic 
War,  and  more  than  forty  years  before  Ennius  was  born, 
is  said  to  have  been  interred  with  extraordinary  pomp. 
In  the  eulo.'^y  pronounced  over  his  body  all   the  great 
exploUf;  03'  iiis    iucestors  were  doubtless  recounted  and 
exagg<^  ^'i^^^ ,     If  there  were  th^n  extant  songs  whieli  jra v o 


PREFACB, 


23 


a  vivid  and  touching  description  of  an  evcnfc,  the  saddest 
Jind  the  mowt  glorious  in  th<'  long  liiHtory  of  the  Pubian 
house,  nothing  oould  be  more  natural  than  that  the  pane- 
gyrist should  borrow  from  such  songs  their  finest  touches, 
in  order  to  adorn  his  speech.  A  few  generations  later  the 
songs  would  perliaps  be  forgotten,  or  remembered  only  by 
shepherds  and  vine-dressers.  But  the  speech  would  cer- 
tainly be  preserved  in  the  archives  of  the  Fabian  nobles. 
Fabius  Pictor  would  be  well  acquainted  with  a  document 
so  interesting  to  his  personal  feelings,  and  would  insert 
large  extracts  from  it  in  his  rude  chronicle.  That  chro- 
nicle, as  we  know,  was  the  oldest  to  which  Livy  had  access. 
Livy  would  at  a  glance  distinguish  the  bold  strokes  of  the 
forgotten  poet  from  the  dull  and  feeble  narrative  by  which 
they  were  surrounded,  would  retouch  them  with  a  delicate 
and  powerful  pencil,  and  would  make  them  immortal. 

That  this  might  happen  at  Rome  can  scarcely  be  doubt- 
ed ;  for  something  very  like  this  has  happened  in  severalv 
countries,  and,  among  others,  in  our  own.     Pej-ha^^ii^^ 
theory  of  Perizonius  cannot  be  bettc 
showing  that  what  he  s 
ancient  times 
ti 


gravity,  'has 

^^'^^^^^■^■PPMmBftgar's  amours,  from  which, 
^  ^^HBI^^InTwe  may  form  a  conjecture  of  the  rest.' 
He^fRTtells  very  agreeably  the  stories  of  Elfleda  and 
Elfrida,  two  stories  which  have  a  most  suspicious  air  of 
romance,  and  which,  indeed,  greatly  resemble,  in  their 
general  character,  some  of  the  legends  of  early  Rome. 
He  cites,  as  his  authority  for  those  two  tales,  the  chro- 

»>'«1„     _i?    ITT?!!*  n   -««■     1  ••  .  -.  -     . 

^iuic  ui  v.  Hiiam  01  MaimesUury,  wiio  lived  ift  the  time  of" 


24 


PREFACE. 


King  Stephen.  The  great  majority  of  readers  suppose  that 
the  d(  /ice  by  which  Elfrida  was  substituted  for  her  young 
mistress,   the  artifice  by  which  AtheLvold  obtained  the 
hand  of  Elfrida,  the  detection  of  that  artifice,  the  hunting 
party,  and  the  vengeance  of  Ihe  amorous  king,  are  thin-s 
about  which  there  is  no  more  doubt  than  about  the  execu- 
tion of  Anne  Boleyn,  or  the  slittingof  Sir  John  Coventry's 
nose.     But  when  we  turn  to  William  of  Malme3bury,  we 
find  that  Hume,  in  his  eagerness  to  rebte  these  pleasant 
fcb  es,  has  overlooked  one  very  important  circumstance. 
William  does  indeed  tell  both  the  stories ;  but  he  gives 
us  distinct  notice  that  he  does  not  warrant  their  truth 
and  that  they  rest  on  no  better  authority  than  that  of 
ballads.* 

Such  is  the  way  in  which  these  two  well-known  tales 

have  been  handed  down.     They  originally  appeared  in  a 

poetical  form.     They  found  their  way  from  ballads  into 

m^  old  chronicle.     The  ballads  perished ;  the  chronicle 

^3^^^^  historian,  some  centuries  after  the 

'  ^ogether   forgotten,    consulted    the 

feely  colouring  of  these 

tive  which  is  lite! 

the  inventions  of  some  ml^l_.     _^ 

bably  never  committed  to  writing,  whose*^l_^, 

in  oblivion,  and  whose  dialect  has  become  obsoU? 


•^i^'^fX-p^^ 


'0- 

'ed 
It 


must,  then,  be  admitted  to  be  possible,  or  rather  highly 


«  ( 


■■  Infaraias   quaa  post    dicam  magis  resperserunt  cantilenre ' 
Edgar  appears  to  have  been  most  mercilessly  treated  in  the  Anglo- 

toaxon  ballads.  He  was  thfi  fnimiirUnr^f +u ^„i ,  .,         ^ . 

and  the  minstrels  were  at  deadly  feud 


PREFACE, 


25 


probable,  that  the  stories  of  Romulus  and  Remus,  and  of 
the  Horatii  and  Curiatii,  may  have  had  a  similar  origin. 

Castilian  literature  will  furnish  us  with  another  parallel 
case.  Mariana,  the  classical  historian  of  Spain,  tells  the 
story  of  the  ill-starred  marriage  which  the  King  Don 
Alonso  brought  about  between  the  heirs  of  Carrion  and 
the  two  daughters  of  the  Cid.  The  Cid  bestowed  a 
princely  dower  on  his  sons-in-law.  But  the  young  men 
were  base  and  proud,  cowardly  and  cruel.  They  were 
tried  in  danger  and  found  wanting.  They  fled  before  the 
Moors,  and  once  when  a  lion  broke  out  of  his  den,  they 
ran  and  crouched  in  an  unseemly  hiding-place.  They 
knew  that  they  were  despised,  and  took  counsel  how  they 
might  be  avenged.  They  parted  from  their  father-in-law 
with  many  signs  of  love,  and  set  forth  on  a  journey  with 
Dona  Elvira  and  Dofia  Sol,  In  a  solitary  place  the  bride- 
grooms seized  their  brides,  stripped  them,  scourged  them, 
and  departed,  leaving  them  for  dead.  But 
house  of  Bivar,  suspecting  foul  play, 
travellers  in  disguise.  The  ladies 
to  the  hoiiise  of  their  fati 
king.     It  was 

by  the  Cid  ^^^^^■■^^■^HiPiP^rs  of  Car- 
rion together  JH^^HBHRI^^ould  do  battle 
^^  of  the  Cid.     The  guilty 

youths  would  iMfTTeolined  the  combat;  but  all  their 
shifts  were  vain.  They  were  vanquished  in  the  lists,  and 
for  ever  disgraced,  while  their  injured  wives  were  sought 
in  marriage  by  great  princes.* 

Some  Spanish  writers  have  laboured  to  show,  by  an 
examination  of  dates  and  o,irnnTnaf.nnr>ofl  fliof  +v.;c 

*  Mariana,  lib.  x.  cap.  4. 


26 


PREFACE, 


'\\ 


untrue.     Such  confutation  was  surely  not  needed ;  for  the 
narrative  is  on  the  face  of  it  a  romance.     How  it  found  i\» 
way  int.)  Mariana's  history  is  quite  clear.     He  acknow- 
■  lodges  his  obligations  to  the  ancient  chronicles;  and  had 
doubtless  before  him  the  'Chronica  del  famoso  Cavallero 
Old  Ruy  Diez  Campeador/  which  had  been  printed  as 
early  as  the  year  155^     He  little  suspected  that  all  the 
most  striking  passages  in  this  chronicle  were  copied  from 
a  poem  of  the  twelfth  century,  a  poem  of  which  the  lan- 
guage and  versification  had  long  been  obsolete,  but  which 
glowed  with  no  common  portion  of  the  fire  of  the  Iliad. 
Yet  such  was  the  fact.     More  than  a  century  and  a  half 
after  the  death  of  Mariana,  this  venerable  ballad,  of  which 
one  imperfect  copy  on  parchment,  four  hundred  years  old, 
had  been  preserved  at  Bivar,  was  for  the  first  time  printed' 
Then  it  was  found  that  every  interesting  circumstanc^ 
of^e  story  of  the  heirs  of  Carrion  was  derived  by  the 

'i^^^^^  ^^^°*  ^  ^°°^  of  which  he  had  never  heard, 

JHj^M^I^  composed  by  a  minstrel  whose  very  name 

^BH|[W||H||||H  ^^^^  ^^^°  ^he  process 

•  ^  ^^^'flHHHRK0^^8R^HHII^K^^  transformed 

^"'^^^^^^^^^"^^^a^^^''^^'^^  some 
portions  of  early  Rc^P^^^^gthe  poetry  out 

of  which  they  were  made,  is  t^ft^H^^Piis^J^- 

In  the  following  poems  the  authSi'-^eaks,  not  in  his 

own  person,  but  in  the  persons  of  ancient  minstrels  who 

•  **f '«*^.^  ^T""""^  ""^^'^  ^^^^^'^  ^^^«  °f  t^e  Birar  manuscript 
m  the  firs   volume  of  the  Goleccion  d.  Poena,  Castellanas  anterU 

Z  f:^  I'.  T'^'  ''  *''  '^"^^  °^^^^  ^^^^^  °f  G-rion,  in  the 
poem  of  the  Oid,  has  been  translated  by  Mr.  Frere  in  a  manner 
above  all  praise. 


PREFACE. 


27: 


know  only  what  a  Roman  citizen,  bom  three  or  four  htin- 
dred  years  before  the  Christian  sera,  may  be  supposed  to 
have  known,  and  who  are  in  nowise  above  the  passions  and 
prejudices  of  their  age  and  nation.     To  these  imaginary 
poets  must  be  ascribed  some  blunders  which  are  so  obvious 
that  it  is  unnecessary  to  point  them  out.     The  real  blun- 
der would  have  been  to  represent  these  old  poets  as  deeply 
versed  in  general  history,  and  studious  of  chronological 
accuracy.     To  them  must  also  be  attributed  the  illiberal 
sneers  at  the  Greeks,  the  furious  party-spirit,  the  contempt 
for  the  arts  of  peace,  the  love  of  war  for  its  own  sake,  the 
ungenerous  exultation    over  the  vanquished,  which  the 
reader  will  sometimes  observe.     To  portray  a  Roman  of 
the  age  of  Camillus  or  Curius  as  superior  to  national  anti- 
pathies, as  mourning  over  the  devastation  and  slaughter 
by  which  empire  and  triumphs  were  to  be  won,  as  looking 
on  human  suffering  with  the  sympathy  of  Howard,  or  as 
treating  conquered  enemies  with  the  delicacy  of  the  Blacl 
Prince,  would  be  to  violate  all  dramatic  proprj 
old  Romans  had  some  great  virtues^ 
veracity,  spirit  to  resist  oi 
authority,  jfidelitj 


estedness, 
chivalrous  5. 
"would 
manner  of  a 
been  borrowe 


and 
^hem. 
improper  to  mimic  the 
r  age  or  country.  Something  has 
however,  from  our  own  old  ballads,  and 
more  from  Sir  Walter  Scott,  the  great  restorer  of  our  ballad- 
poetry.  To  the  Iliad  Itill  greater  obligations  are  due ;  and 
those  obligations  have  been  contracted  with  the  less  hesita- 
tion, because  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  some  of  the 
old  Latin  minstrels  really  had  recourse  to  that  inexhausti- 
ble store  of  poetical  images. 


28 


PREFACE. 


It  would  have  been  easy  to  swell  this  little  yolumeto  » 
ve^  co„a,derable  bulk,  by  appending  notes  filTw^th 

"ntort^Ld  ,r    f  """*  ™'"^^'  ""^y  "<»■'<•  have  little 

di  itZ  °°  "  r '  "'  ""=  '"'^■"'«»»  -11  always 
aepend  much  more  on  the  general  character  and  spirit  of 
Buch  a  work  than  on  minute  details.  ^ 


i'      ^-. 


HORATIITS. 


There  can  be  little  doubt  that  among  those  parts  of  early 
Roman  history  which  had  a  poetical  origin  was  the  legend 
of  Horatius  Codes.  We  have  several  versions  of  the  story, 
and  these  versions  differ  from  eaclyg|her  inp^||||of  no 
small  importance.  Polvbiiii|||i[|ME^MMB^^^^^Bp^®> 
heard  the  tale  recii^iyiiH^^^H^^^^^^^^^Bteul 
or  Praetor 

for  hA^il^^^^H^^^^^^^^^I^^^HHpiiP^with 

'ot  embellishing 

^arkable  that,  according 

led  the  bridge  alone,  and  perished 

•s.     According  to  the  chronicles  which  I<ivy 

^d  Dionysius  followed,  Horatius  had  two  companionSj 

swam  safe  to  shore,  and  was  loaded  with  honours  and 

rewards. 

Thftsfi  diacreDanoiea  are  easilv  exnlained.     Our  own 

—  -   -  j^-  ■  -  -  ^        J. 

literature,  indeed,  will  furnish  an  exact  parallel  to  what 


mmmi-.- 


30 


J^^rs  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


compositions  ich  MvL^T":  ^V^'''^  ^^ 
stand  first  in  the  ff.^'  /  .  "•  "  *""  ''''"'«'«  ''''ich 
both  those  b  llads  1    FnWit ""'  ^"^'■•'  ^''^''^-     I" 

%htwith  the  i  t^SdlTet^r'-^f^^''^' 
of  the  ballads  the  BouWas  is  til^  K  °    '^     ^"  ""« 

archer,  and  the  PerefbV?,    1  ^ '"'"'''^'' ^"S"* 

Percy.     Yet  both    h     1  n".    ^™  ""'  '^*^"S'=''  ^^  '^e 

"     ^^^  <>*  the  minstrels  says  : 

'  Old  ^en  that  knowen  the  grounde  well  yenoughe 
^all  It  the  battel!  of  Otterburn  : 
*"    "    erburqjjilfcn  thia  spurne 


The  otherpS 

'  Thjs  fraye  bj^S     ,,,^^ 
Bjtwene  the  nyghte  and  thT.^ 
Ther  the  Dowglas  lost  hjs  lyfe,' 
And  the  Percy  was  lede  away.'' 

It  is  by  no  means  unlikely  that  there  were  two  ohi 
Roman  lays  about  the  defence  of  the  brid^   anTthll 
While  the  story  which  T.N.^  u.,  ._.        .,,'=!'  ^""^  ^^'^^^ 
J  ,j  nas  txaubimi/tea  to  us  was 


H0RATIU8. 


31 


7  probable 
(Served  by 
ds  which 
^etry.  In 
he  Percy, 

•     In  one 

8  English 
i:  in  the 
ibat,  and 
ir  Hugh 
umbrian 
li  for  the 
e  event, 
thin  the 

!  ballads 


0  old 

that, 

3  was 


preferred  by  the  multitude,  the  other,  which  ascribed  the 
whole  glory  to  Horatius  alone,  may  have  been  the  favourite 
with  the  Horatian  house. 

The  following  ballad  is  supposed  to  have  been  made 
about  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  after  the  war  which  it 
celebrates,  and  just  before  the  taking  of  Rome  by  the 
Gauls.  The  author  seems  to  have  been  an  honest  citizen, 
proud  of  the  military  glory  of  his  country,  sick  of  the 
disputes  of  factions,  and  much  given  to  pining  after  good 
old  times  which  had  never  really  existed.  The  allusion, 
however,  to  the  partial  manner  in  which  the  public  lands 
were  allotted  could  proceed  only  from  a  plebeian ;  and  the 
allusion  to  the  fraudulent  sale  of  spoils  marks  the  date  of 
the  poem,  and  shows  that  the  poet  shared  in  the  general 
discontent  with  which  the  proceedings  of  Camillus,  after 
the  taking  of  Veii,  were  regarded. 

The  penultimate  syllable  of  the  name  Porsena  has  been 
shortened  in  spite  of  the  authority  of  Niebuhr,  who  pro- 

^''^^^^HRBil^^lHBHl^PiMMR^^^^^^^^^^  Niebuhr 

he  must  have  uttered  and  heard  uttered  a  hundred  times 
before  he  left  school.  Niebuhr  seems  also  to  have  forgot- 
ten that  Martial  has  fellow-culprits  to  keep  him  in  coun- 
tenance. Horace  has  committed  the  same  decided  blunder ; 
for  he  gives  us,  as  a  pure  iambic  line, 

*  Minacis  aut  Etrusca  Porsense  manus.' 


32 


LAra  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


a StTay,'"  ''^'^'^  "''-^^'^  »  'he  aa.e  way, 

and  agair;-""  '''"'""  "'"'="  "<'"''"'  ^«'"»  ^ ' 
•  Clusinum  y„Ig„,,  „„„,  p<,„ena  magna,  jubebas.' 

patrician  tfbJu  *  ,"P^*«<:°*''*-«  «f  one  of  the  three 

..n.opte.t:L^.:~r -«---« 


-^'^'^•'•<?'*t"«-.^_ 


•^«-A    9-^t^ef 


m 


A 


« 


HORATI 


A  LAY  MADli  ABOUT  THB  YE 


OCCLX. 


SNA  0^-  Clusium 
fe  &ods  he  swore 
Itr  house  of  Tarquin 
I'er  wrong  no  more. 
!ne  Gods  he  swore  it, 
And  named  a  try  sting  day, 
An  1  bade  his  messengers  ride  forth. 
East  and  west  and  south  and  north, 
To  summon  his  array. 

II. 

East  and  west  and  south  and  north 

The  messengers  ride  fast. 
And  tower  and  town  and  cottage 

Have  heard  the  trumpet's  blast. 
Shame  on  the  false  Etruscan 

Who  lingers  in  his  home, 
Wht 


Ti _r  r^^. ; 


Is  on  the  march  for  Borne. 


34 


LAYS  OF  AyciENT  ROME. 

m. 

f  horsemen  and  the  footmea 
•e  pouring  in  amain 
many  a  stately  market-place  ; 
manyafruitfulplain; 
^ny  a  lonely  hamlet, 
id  by  beech  and  pine, 
■le's  nest,  hanga  on  the  crest 
'  *  Pennine  J 

IV. 

terrao, 

le  far-famed  hold 
jOf  giants 
of  old ; 
Poptilonia, 
Whose  sentinels  des 
Sardinia's  snowy  mP 
Fringing  the  southel 

V.  . 

From  the  proud  mart  of  Pis«e/ 

Queen  of  the  western  wavel, 
Where  ride  Massilia's  triremes 

Heavy  with  fair-haired  slaves  ; 
From  where  sweet  Clanis  wanders 

Through  corn  and  vines  and  flowers- 
From  where  Cortona  lifts  to  heaven 

Her  diadem  of  towers. 

VI. 

Tall  are  the  oaks  whose  acorns 

Trop  in  dark  Auser's  rill ; 
Fat  are  the  stags  that  champ  the  boughs 

Of  the  Ciminian  bill  • 


EORATIUS, 

Beyond  all  streams  OUtumnua 

Is  tcTthe  herdsman  dear; 
Best  of  all  pools  the  fowler  loves 

The  great  Volsinian  mere. 

vir. 

But  now  no  stroke  of  woodman 

Is  heard  bj  Auser's  rill ; 
No  hunter  tracks  the  stag's  green  path 

Up  the  Oiminian  hill; 
Unwatched  along  Olitumnus 

Grazes  the  milk-white  steer; 
Unharmed  the  water  fowl  may  dip 

In  the  Volsinian  mere. 

VIII. 

The  harvests  of  Arretium, 

This  year,  old  men  shall  reap, 
This  year,  young  boys  in  Umbro 

Shall  plunge  the  struggling  sheep ; 
And  in  the  vats  of  Luna, 

This  year,  the  must  shall  foam 
Round  the  white  feet  of  laughing  girls 

Whose  sires  have  marched  to  Rome. 

IX. 

There  be  thirty  chosen  prophets, 

The  wisest  of  the  land. 
Who  alway  by  Lars  Porsena 

Both  morn  and  evening  stand  : 
Evening  and  morn  the  Thirty 

Have  turned  the  verses  o'er. 
Traced  from  the  right  on  linen  white 


85 


B 


0 


36 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


X. 

And  with  one  voice  the  Thirty- 
Have  their  glad  answer  given  : 

*  Go  forth,  go  forth,  Lars  Porscna ; 
Go  forth,  beloved  of  Heaven : 

Go,  and  return  in  glory 
To  Olusium's  royal  dome ; 

And  hang  round  Nurscia'a  altars 
The  golden  shields  of  Rome.' 

XI. 
And  now  hath  every  city 

SSent  up  her  tale  of  men ; 
The  foot  are  fourscore  thousand, 

The  horse  are  thousands  ten. 
Before  the  gates  of  Sutrium 

Is  met  the  great  array. 
A  proud  man  was  Lars  Porsena 

Upon  the  trysting  day. 

XII. 
For  all  the  Etruscan  armies" 

Were  ranged  beneath  his  eye, 
And  many  a  banished  Roman, 

And  many  a  stout  ally ; 
And  with  a  mighty  following 

To  join  the  muster  came 
The  Tusculan  Mamilius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name. 

XIII. 
But  by  the  yellow  Tiber 

Was  tumult  and  affright : 
From  all  the  spacious  champaign 


To 


.- * — V  4U»:>  fl:»ii4- 

\3  IVUiliC  lUCU    VJXia.    UIVU    uxgtsvi 


HOEATIUS. 

A  mile  around  the  citj, 

The  throng  stopped  up  the  ways  • 
A  fearAil  sight  it  was  to  see 

Through  two  long  nights  and  dayg. 

XIV. 
For  aged  folks  on  crutches, 

And  women  great  with  child, 
And  mothers  sobbing  oyer  babes 

That  clung  to  them  and  smiled. 
And  sick  men  borne  in  litters 

High  on  the  necks  of  slaves, 
And  troops  of  sun-burned  husbandmen 

With  reaping-hooks  and  staves, 
XV. 

And  droves  of  mules  and  asses 

Laden  with  skins  of  wine, 
And  endless  flocks  of  goats  and  sheep 

And  endless  herds  of  kine 
And  endless  trains  of  waggons 

That  creaked  beneath  the  weight 
Of  corn- sacks  and  of  household  goods 

Choked  every  roaring  gate. 

XVI. 
Now,  from  the  rock  Tarpeian, 

Could  the  wan  burghers  spy 
The  line  of  blazing  villages 

Red  in  the  midnight  sky. 
The  Fathers  of  the  City, 

They  sat  all  night  and  day, 
For  every  hour  some  horseman  camp 

With  tidings  of  dismay. 


m 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

XVII. 
To  eastward  and  to  westward 

Have  spread  the  Tuscan  bands  ; 
Nor  house,  nor  fence,  nor  dovecote 

In  Orustumerium  stands. 
Verbenna  down  to  Ostia 

Hath  wasted  all  the  plain  • 
Astur  hath  stormed  Janlculum 

And  the  stout  guards  are  slain. 

XVIII. 
I  wis,  in  all  the  Senate, 

There  was  no  heart  so  bold. 
But  sore  it  ached,  and  fast  it  beat. 

When  that  ill  news  was  told. 
Forthwith  up  rose  the  Consul, 

Up  rose  the  Fathers  ail  j 
In  haste  they  girded  up  their  gowns, 

And  hied  them  to  the  wall. 

XIX. 
They  held  a  council  standing 

Before  the  River-Gate  j 
Short  time  was  there,  ye  well  may  guess, 

For  musing  or  debate. 
Out  spake  the  Consul  roundly: 

'  The  bridge  must  straight  go  down; 
For,  since  Janiculum  is  lost. 
Nought  else  can  save  the  town.' 
XX. 
Just  then  a  scout  came  flying. 

All  wild  with  haste  and  iear: 
'  To  arjis !  to  arms  I  Sir  Consul: 
Lars  Porsena  is  here.' 


I 


H0RATIU8. 

On  the  low  hills  to  westward 

The  Consul  fixed  his  eye, 
And  saw  the  swarthy  storm  of  dust 

Else  fast  alojug  the  sky. 

XXI. 

And  nearer  fast  and  nearer 

Doth  the  red  whirlwind  come ; 
And  louder  still  and  still  more  loud, 
Prom  underneath  that  rolling  cloud, 
Is  heard  the  trumpet's  war-note  proud, 

The  trampling,  and  the  hum. 
And  plainly  and  more  plainly 

Now  through  the  gloom  appears, 
Far  to  left  and  far  to  right, 
In  broken  gleams  of  dark-blue  light, 
The  long  array  of  helmets  bright, 

The  long  array  of  spears. 

XXII. 

And  plainly  and  more  plainly, 

Above  that  glimmering  line. 
Now  might  ye  see  the  banners 

Of  twelve  fair  cities  shine ; 
But  the  banner  of  proud  Clusium 

Was  highest  of  them  all. 
The  terror  of  the  Umbrian, 

The  terror  of  the  Gaul. 


39 


XXIII. 
And  plainly  and  more  plainly 

Now  might  the  burghers  know, 
By  port  and  vest,  hj  horse  and  crest, 

Each  warlike  Lucumo. 


40 


I^AVS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 
There  Cilniua  of  Arretium 

On  his  fleet  roan  was  seen  j 
And  Astur  of  the  four-fold  shield 

Girt  with  the  brand  none  else  may  wield, 
Tolumnius  with  the  belt  of  gold, 

And  dark  Verbenna  from  the  hold 
Bj  reedy  Thrasymene, 

XXIV. 
Fast  by  the  royal  standard, 

O'erlookiugallthewar,  ' 
Lars  Porsena  of  Clusium 

Sat  in  his  ivory  car; 
By  the  right  wheel  rode  Mamilius 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name  J       ' 
And  by  the  left  false  Sextus, 
That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame. 


\ 


XXV. 

But  when  the  face  of  Sextua 
Was  seen  among  the  foes, 

A  yell  that  rent  the  firmament 
From  all  the  town  arose. 

On  the  house-tops  was  no  woman 
But  spat  towards  him  and  hissed 
J^o  child  but  screamed  out  curses,  ' 
And  shook  Its  little  fist. 

XXVI. 

But  the  Consul's  brow  was  sad, 
And  the  Consul's  speech  was  low, 

And  darkly  looked  hfi  «>  +K-.  «,.]i 
And  darkly  at  the  foe. 


UORATIUS. 

*  Their  van  will  be  upon  us 

Before  the  bridge  gees  down ; 
And  if  they  once  may  win  the  bridge, 
What  hope  to  save  the  town  ? ' 

xxvir. 

Then  out  apake  brave  Horatiug, 

The  Captain  of  the  Gate : 
'  To  every  man  upon  this  earth 

Death  cometh  soon  or  late. 
And  how  can  man  die  better 

Than  facing  fearful  odds, 
For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers, 

And  the  temples  of  his  Gods, 

XXVIII. 

*  And  for  the  tender  mother 

Who  dandled  him  to  rest, 
And  for  the  wife  who  nurses 

His  baby  at  her  breast. 
And  for  the  holy  maidens 

Who  feed  the  eternal  flame, 
To  save  them  from  false  Sextus 

That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame  ? 


41 


!,  Sir  ConsiJ,     / 
emay;         \J 


XXIX. 

*  Hew  down  the  bridge 

With  all  the  speed  ye 
I,  with  two  more  to  help  me, 

Will  hold  the  foe  in  play. 
In  yon  strait  path  a  thousand 

May  well  be  stopped  by  three. 
Now  who  will  stand  on  either  hand. 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  me  ?' 


42 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


M 


W  1i 


XXX. 

Then  out  spake  Spurius  Lartius  ; 

A  Ramnian  proud  was  ho : 
'Lo,  I  will  stand  at  thy  right  hand, 
And  keep  the-bridge  with  thee.  ' 
And  out  spake  strong  Herminius 

Of  Titian  blood  was  he : 
'I  will  abide  on  thy  left  side, 
And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee. 
XXXI. 
'Horatius,'  quoth  the  Consul, 

'  As  thou  sayest,  so  let  it  be.' 
And  straight  against  that  great  array 

Forth  went  the  dauntless  Three. 
For  Romans  in  Rome's  quarrel 
Spared  neither  land  nor  gold, 
Nor  son,  nor  wife,  nor  limb,  nor  life, 
In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

XXXII, 
Then  none  was  for  a  party; 

Then  all  were  for  the  state ; 
Then  the  great  man  helped  the  poor, 
And  the  poor  man  loved  the  great': 
Then  lands  were  fairly  portione'd  ; 

Then  spoils  were  fairly  sold : 
The  Romans  were  like  brothers 
In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

XXXIII. 
Now  Roman  is  to  Roman 

More  hateful  than  a  foe, 
*  "^■-'  ^'■'■"^ix^^  oeara  tiie  high. 

And  the  Fathers  giind  the  low. 


HORATIUS, 

As  we  wax  hot  in  faction, 

In  battle  we  wax  cold : 
Wherefore  men  fight  not  as  they  fought 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

XXXIV. 

Now  while  the  Three  were  tightening 

Their  harness  on  their  backs, 
The  Consul  was  the  foremost  man 

To  take  in  hand  an  axe : 
And  Fathers  mixed  with  Commons 

Seized  hatchet,  bar,  and  crow, 
And  smote  upon  the  planks  above, 

And  loosed  the  props  below. 

XXXV. 

Meanwhile  the  Tuscan  army. 

Right  glorious  to  behold. 
Came  flashing  back  the  noonday  light, 
Rank  behind  rank,  like  surges  bright 

Of  a  broad  sea  of  gold. 
Four  hundred  trumpets  sounded 

A  peal  of  warlike  glee, 
As  that  great  host,  with  measured  tread, 
And  spears  advanced,  and  ensigns  spread, 
Rolled  slowly  towards  the  bridge's  head, 

Where  stood  the  dauntless  Three. 


43 


xxxvr. 

The  Three  stood  calm  and  silent. 
And  looked  upon  the  foes. 

And  a  great  shout  of  laughter 
From  all  the  vanguard  rose ; 


44 


si    i 


LAFS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

And  forth  three  chiefs  came  spurring 

Before  that  deep  array  ; 
To  earth  they  sprang,  their  swords  they  drew 
And  lifted  high  their  shields,  and  flew 

To  win  the  narrow  way  • 

XXXT 

Annus  from  green  Tifeuxum, 

Lord  of  the  Hill  of  Vines  ; 
And  Seius,  whose  eight  hundred  slaves 

Sicken  in  lira's  mines ; 
And  Pious,  long  to  Clusium 

Vassal  in  peace  and  war, 
Who  led  to  fight  his  Umbriau  powers 
From  that  grey  crag  where,  girt  with  towers, 
The  "jrtress  of  Nequinum  lowers 

O'er  the  pale  waves  of  Nar. 

XXXVIII. 

Stout  Lartius  hurled  down  Aunus 

Into  the  stream  beneath : 
Herminius  struck  at  Seius, 

And  clove  him  to  the  teeth : 
At  Picus  brave  Horatius 

Darted  one  fiery  thrust  • 
And  the  proud  Umbrian's  gilded  arms 

Clashed  in  the  bloody  dust. 

XXXIX. 

Then  Ocnus  of  Palerii 

Rushed  on  the  Roman  Three  • 
And  Lausulus  of  Urgo 

The  rover  of  the  sea : 


BORATIUS. 


i5 


And  Aruna  of  Volsinium, 

"Who  slew  the  great  wild  boar, 
The  great  wild  boar  that  had  his  den 
Amidst  the  reeds  of  Cosa's  fen, 
And  wasted  fields,  and  slaughtered  men, 
Along  Albinia's  shore. 

XL. 
Herminius  smote  down  Aruns : 

Lartius  laid  Ocaus  low : 
Bight  to  the  heart  of  Lausulus 

Horatius  sent  a  blow. 
*  Lie  there,'  he  cried,  '  fell  pirate  I 

No  more,  aghast  and  pale. 
From  Ostia's  walls  the  crowd  shall  mark 
The  track  of  thy  destroying  bark. 
No  more  Campania's  hinds  shall  fly 
To  woods  and  caverns  when  they  spy 

Thy  thrice  accursed  sail.' 

XLI. 

But  now  no  sound  of  laughter 

Was  heard  among  the  foes. 
A  wild  and  wrathful  clamour 

From  all  the  vanguard  rose. 
Six  spears'  lengths  from  the  entrance 

Halted  that  deep  array, 
And  for  a  space  no  man  came  forth 

To  win  the  narrow  way. 

XLII. 

But  hark !  the  cry  is  Astur: 
And  lo  I  the  ranks  divide ; 


Comes  with  his  stately  stride. 


46 


II     \ 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

Upon  hia  ample  shoulders 

Clangs  loud  the  fourfold  shield 
And  in  his  hand  he  shakes  the  brand 
Which  none  but  he  can  wield. 
XLIII. 
He  smiled  on  those  bold  Romans 

A  smile  serene  and  high  • 

He  eyed  the  flinching  Tuscans, 

And  scorn  was  in  his  eye. 

Quoth  he,  'The  she-wolf  slitter 

Stand  savagely  at  bay  ; 
But  will  ye  dare  to  follow, 
;,        If  Astur  clears  the  v.ay ? > 
XLIV. 
Then,  whirling  up  his  broadsword 
With  both  hands  to  the  height, 
He  rushed  against  Horatius,        '     ' 

And  smote  with  all  his  might. 
With  shield  and  blade  Horatius 
Right  deftly  turned  the  blow 
The  blow,  though  turned,  came  yet  too  nigh  j 

I  m,ssedh,s  helm,  but  gashed  his  thigh: 
The  Tuscans  raised  a  joyful  cry 

To  see  the  red  blood  flow. 
XLV. 
He  reeled,  and  on  Herminius 

He  leaned  one  breathing-space; 
Then,  like  a  wild  cat  mad  with  wounds 
Sprang  right  at  Astur's  face.  ' 

Through  teeth,  and  skull,  and  helmet 

So  fierce  a  thrust  he  sped 
The  good  3-vvOfd  stood  a  hand-breadth  out 
Behind  the  Tuscan's  head. 


EORATIUS. 

XLVI. 

And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna 

Fell  at  that  deadly  stroke, 
As  falls  on  Mount  Alvernus 

A  thunder-smitten  oak. 
I'ar  o'er  the  crashing  forest 

The  giant  arms  lie  spread  ; 
And  the  pale  augurs,  muttering  low, 

Gaze  on  the  blasted  head. 

XLVII. 

On  Astur's  throat  Horatius 

Right  firmly  pressed  his  heel, 
And  thrice  and  four  times  tugged  amain, 

Ere  he  wrenched  out  the  steel. 
*  And  see,'  he  cried,  *  the  welcome, 

Fair  guests,  that  waits  you  here  I 
What  noble  Lucumo  comes  next 

To  taste  our  Roman  cheer  ? ' 

XLVIII. 
But  at  his  haughty  challenge 

A  sullen  murmur  ran, 
Mingled  of  wrath,  and  shame,  and  dread, 

Along  that  glittering  van. 
There  lacked  not  men  of  prowess, 

Nor  men  of  lordly  race ; 
For  all  Etruria's  noblest 

Were  round  the  fatal  place. 

XLIX. 

But  all  Etruria's  noblest    - 

Felt  their  hearts  sink  to  see 
On  the  earth  the  bloodv  coroses. 

e*         -  A  f 

In  the  path  the  dauntless  Three : 


47 


48 


LArs  OF  ANCIENT  ROME, 

And,  from  the  ghastly  entrance 

Where  those  bold  Romans  stood, 
All  shrank,  like  boys  who  unaware, 
Ranging  the  woods  to  start  a  hare, ' 
Come  to  the  mouth  of  the  dark  lair 
Where,  growling  low,  a  fierce  old  bear 
Lies  amidst  bones  and  blood. 

L. 

Was  none  who  would  be  foremost 

To  lead  such  dire  attack: 
But  thoso  behind  cried  'Por^^ard  1' 

And  those  before  cried  'Back I' 
And  backward  now  and  forward 
t        Wavers  the  deep  array ; 
And  on  the  tossing  sea  of  steel, 
To  and  fro  the  standards  reel  j 
And  the  victorious  trumpet-peal 
Dies  fitfully  away. 

Yet  one  man  for  one  moment 
Stood  out  before  the  crowd; 
Well  known  was  he  to  all  the  Three, 
^  And  they  gave  him  greeting  loud,' 
'Now  welcome,  welcome,  SextusI 

Now  welcome  to  thy  home  1 
Why  dcst  thou  stay,  and  turn  away? 
He]    lies  the  road  to  Rome.' 
LII. 
Thrice  looked  he  at  the  city; 

Thrice  looked  he  at  the  dead  ; 
And  thrice  came  on  in  fury 
And  thrice  turned  back  in  dread ; 


H0RATIU8. 

And,  white  with  fear  and  hatred, 
Scowled  at  the  narrow  way 

Where,  wallowing  in  a  pool  of  blood, 
The  bravest  Tuscan&  lay. 

LIII. 
But  meanwhile  axe  and  lever 

Have  mnnfuUy  been  plied ; 
And  now  the  bridge  hangs  tottering 

Above  the  boiling  tide. 
<  Come  back,  come  bacn,  Horatius  I ' 

Loud  cried  the  Fathers  all, 
'Back,  LartiusI  back,  HerminiusI 

Back,  ero  the  ruia  fall  1 ' 

LIV. 

Back  darted  Spurius  Lartius ; 

Herminius  darted  back ; 
And,  as  they  passed,  beneath  their  feet 

They  felt  the  timbers  crack. 
But  when  they  turned  their  faces, 

And  on  the  farther  shore 
Saw  brave  Horatius  stand  alone. 

They  would  have  crossed  once  more. 

LV. 

But  with  a  crash  like  thunder 

Fell  every  loosened  beam, 
And,  like  a  dam,  the  mighty  wreck 

Lay  right  athwart  the  ttream ; 
And  a  long  shout  of  triumph 

Eosc  from  the  walls  of  Rome, 
As  to  the  highest  turret-tops 


49 


^ 


50 


I^Ars  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


\i- 


V-'A       HI 


LVI.      '] 
And,  like  a  horse  unbroken 

When  first  l.e  feela  the  rein, 
The  furious  river  struggled  hlrd, 

And  tossed  his  tawny  mane, 
And  burst  the  curb,  and  bounded, 

Rejoiofng  to  be  free, 
^.nd  whirling  down,  in  fierce  career 
Battlement,  and  plank,  and  pier, 
.Hushed  headlong  to  the  sea.   ' 
LVII. 
Alone  stood  brave  Horatius, 
But  constant  still  in  mind  ; 
Thrice  thirty  thousand  foes  before, 
And  the  broad  flood  behind. 

'  Down  with  him  I 'cried  false  Sextus, 
With  a  smile  on  his  pale  face 

'Now  yield  thee,' cried  Lars  Porsena, 
'Now  yield  thee  to  our  grace.' 
LVIII. 
Bound  turned  he,  as  not  deigning 

Those  craven  ranks  to  see  ; 
Nought  spake  he  to  Lars  Porsena, 

To  Sextus  nought  spake  he  ; 
But  he  saw  on  Palatinus 

The  white  porch  of  his  home ; 
And  he  spake  to  the  noble  river 
That  rolls  by  the  towers  of  Rome. 
LIX. 
'  Oh,  Tiber !  father  Tiber  I 

To  whom  the  Romans  pray, 
A  Roman's  life,  a  Roman's  aras. 
--- V  v:^.^x3.  ia  cnarge  this  day  1 ' 


n OR  AT  I  us. 

So  he  spake,  and  speaking  sheathed 
The  Rood  sword  by  his  side, 

And  with  his  harness  on  his  back, 
Plunged  headlong  in  tho  tide. 

LX. 

No  sound  of  joy  or  sorrow 

Was  heard  from  either  bank 
But  friends  and  foes  in  dumb  surprise, 
With  parted  lips  and  straining  eyes, 

Stood  gazing  where  he  sank ; 
And  when  above  the  surges 

They  saw  his  crest  appear, 
All  Rome  sent  forth  a  rapturous  cry, 
And  even  the  ranks  of  Tuscany 

Could  scarce  forbear  to  cheer. 

LXI. 

But  fiercely  ran  the  current. 

Swollen  high  by  months  of  rain : 
And  fast  his  blood  was  flowing 

And  he  was  sore  in  pain, 
And  heavy  with  his  armour. 

And  spent  with  changing  blows  : 
And  oft  they  thought  him  sinking, 

But  still  again  he  rose. 


51 


LXII. 

Never,  I  ween,  did  swimmer, 

In  such  an  evil  case. 
Struggle  through  such  a  raging  flood 

Safe  to  the  landing  place : 
D 


52 


III  I 


J^AFS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME, 

But  bis  limbs  were  borne  up  bravely 
Bj  tbe  brave  heart  within 

And  our  good  father  Tiber 
Bore  bravely  up  his  chin.* 

LXIII. 

'  Curse  on  him  I 'quoth  false  Seztus  J 

'Will  not  the  villain  drown?         '    ' 
But  for  this  stay,  ere  close  of  day 

We  should  have  sacked  the  town  V 
'Heaven  help  him  I '  quoth  Lars  Porsena 

'  And  bring  him  safe  to  shore  j 
For  such  a  gallant  feat  of  arms  ' 

Was  never  seen  before.' 

LXIV. 

And  now  he  feels  the  bottom  ; 
•     Now  on  dry  earth  he  stands'; 
Now  round  him  throng  the  Fathers 

To  press  his  gory  hands  ; 
And  now,  with  shouts  and  clapping, 

And  noise  of  weeping  loud 
He  enters  through  the  River-Gate 
Borne  by  the  joyous  crowd.       ' 

* 'Our ladye  bare  upp  her  chinne.' 

'Never heavier nianandhorse     ^'^'"'^ '^ ^^^'^^  ^«'«»'^. 

Stemmed  a  midnight  torrei.t'8  force. 

*  *  -  ' 

*  # 

Ye»,  through  good  heart  n„d  „„  j*,^  ,,  * 
At.eng.nheg.,„e<.,t<,I.„<,tagp,.„,r*™°' 

I^y  qfthe  Last  Minstrel,  I. 


H0RAT1U8.      - 

LXV. 

They  gave  him  of  the  corn-land, 

That  was  of  public  right, 
As  much  as  two  strong  oxen 

Could  plough  from  morn  till  night; 
And  they  made  a  molten  image. 

And  set  it  up  oq  high, 
And  there  it  stands  unto  this  day 

To  witness  if  I  lie, 

LXVI. 

It  stands  in  the  Comitium, 

Plain  for  all  folk  to  see; 
Horatius  in  his  harness, 

Halting  upon  one  knee : 
And  underneath  is  written, 

Jn  letters  all  of  gold, 
How  valiantly  he  kept  the  bridge 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

LXVII, 

And  still  his  name  sounds  stirring 

Unto  the  men  of  Rome, 
As  the  trumpet-blast  that  cries  to  them 

To  charge  the  Volscian  home ; 
And  wives  still  pray  to  a  uno 

For  boys  with  hearts  as  oold 
As  his  who  kept  the  bridge  so  well 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

LXVIII. 

And  in  the  nights  of  winter. 
When  the  cold  north  winds  blow, 

Autl  Ibe  long  howling  of  the  wolves 
Ts  heard  amidst  the  snow; 


63 


f  - 


LAVS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

When  round  the  lonely  cottage 
Roars  loud  the  tempest's  din, 

And  the  good  logs  of  Algidus 
Roar  louder  yet  within ; 

LXTX. 

When  the  oldest  cask  is  opened, 

And  the  largest  lamp  is  lit ; 
When  the  chestnuts  glow  in  the  embers, 

And  the  kid  turns  on  the  spit; 
When  young  and  old  in  circle 

Around  the  firebrands  close; 
When  the  girls  are  weaving  baskets, 

And  the  lads  are  shaping  bows ; 

LXX. 

When  the  goodraan  mends  his  armour. 

And  trims  his  helmet's  plume ; 
When  the  goodwife's  shuttle  merrily 

Goes  flashing  through  the  loom ; 
With  weeping  and  with  laughter 

Still  is  the  story  told, 
How  well  Horatius  kept  the  bridge 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 


THE 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


The  following  poem  is  supposed  to  liare  teen  produced 
about  ninety  years  after  the  lay  of  Horatius.  Some 
persons  mentioned  in  the  lay  of  Horatius  make  their 
appearance  again,  and  some  appellations  and  epithets 
used  in  the  lay  of  Horatius  have  been  purposely  repeated  : 
for,  in  an  age  of  ballad-poetry,  it  scarcely  ever  fails 
to  happen,  that  certain  phrases  come  to  be  appropriated 
to  certain  men  and  things,  and  are  regularly  applied 
to  those  men  and  things  by  every  minstrel.  Thus  we 
find,  both  in  the  Homeric  poems  and  in  Hesiod,  piTj 
'EpaK^eiTijirepcKUTo^ ' Afi<j>iyv^eic,  dtaKTopog ' ApyeKpdvTTjg,  iTrrdnvTioc 
Qril^Vf  'E?iv;7f  evek'  T/mdfioio.  Thus,  too,  in  our  own  national 
songs,  Douglas  is  almost  always  the  doughty  Douglas : 
England  is  merry  England  :  all  the  gold  is  red ;  and  all 
the  ladies  are  gay. 

The  principal  distinction  between  the  lay  of  Horatius 
ar^A  fV^o  Iq-it  nf  flio  T.nlfe  Rpp-illus  is  that  the  former 
is  meant  to  bs  purely  Roman,  while  the  latter,  though 


66 


^''^S  OF  A^Cm^^j^O^^ 


I   I 

I!      !i 


national  in  its  o-eneral   ««•  -.    , 
Greek  learning  and  ofCTL^X^'''''  '-"o'"-  of 
the  Tarquins,  as  it  has  cole  doT"""-     ''"^  '^^^  "' 
been  oo^ppiJed  from  the  worts  "Tl       i  'PP'*"  *°  ''"ve 
«nd  one,  at  least,  „f  thosIZ  "'  P^P"'"^  P»ets ; 

tie  Greek  coioni;  i„  iZy'T^JT'  *^  """'"  ^^-ted 
We  had  some  acq„ainta/e'e  wit!  thf"  ^"'  '"^  '^ 
and  Herodotus.     Manv  of  fh.      •         '^'"''''  "^  Homer 
of  the  house   .f  TaT^  „  ^^1^'"''"^  ""-"*-- 
"Ppfearance,   have  a   Greek   .7  "'""''  °"'''^»  W 

themselves  are  represented  as  r-'t;--  ''''*  '"-<>-■>» 
peat  house  of  the  Baeoh  ad^  d""^°  '"''"«''  of  the 
by  the  tyranny  of  that  ^pseirt "" ''"''"'"-''y 
strange  escape  Herodotus  haf  1  ]!^  '  '"'"'  "f  '^hose 
^n-plicity  and  liveliness  *  r  '^''  'l'*''  "comparable 
<»  that,  when  Tarquin  the  Pro,  7  '  f '™^^''"»  tell  ^ 
the    best   mode  „f  goverlif!  """'^  "^"^  ^'^^ 

-plied  onl,  by  beaLrd  wn  1;:^"""'  '"*^'  '"' 
^«-t  poppies  in  his  gfrdert  Thi  '"""  *"  *« 
Herodotus,  in  the  passage  to  w[ich!.f'  "  '^"""^  '''•"t 
been  made,  relates  of  the  crunse  ""  '""  '^''^'^y 

-of  Cpselus.  The  strati  ^n^L^'r'^-''''' 
Gabu  ,s  brought  under  the  power  j!i  ^^^  '"'"'  "f 
again,  obviously  copied  from  r!    J       ""^  '^'"^»'''»  ". 

oftheyoungTa^uLJro^SB-!.^?'^^"''''''^ 
a  story  as  would  be  told  bv  IT,    !^^^^'  "  J»«ts«ch 

of  the  Greek  mytholot  ^?r' '""'^?  '«"«'''««  fuU 
returned  by  Apollo  is  in  the  e.    .      ""biguous  answer 

Herodotus,  v.  92.    Livy  i  P4     n- 
t  Herodotus,  iii.  1/54     r./„_  .  ._ 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REQILLUS. 


57 


destruction.  Then  the  character  of  the  narrative  changes. 
From  the  first  mention  of  Lucretia  to  the  retreat  of 
Porsena  nothing  seems  to  be  borrowed  from  foreign 
sources.  The  villany  of  Sextus,  the  suicide  of  his 
victim,  the  revolution,  the  death  of  the  sons  of  Brutus, 
the  defence  of  the  bridge,  JNliicius  burning  his  hand,* 
Cloelia  swimming  through  Tiber,  seem  to  be  all  strictly 
Roman.  But  when  we  have  done  with  the  Tuscan  war, 
and  enter  upon  the  war  with  the  Latines,  we  are  again 
struck  by  the  Grreek  air  of  the  story.  The  Battle  of  the 
Lake  Regillus  is  in  all  respects  a  Homeric  battle,  except 
that  the  combatants  ride  astride  on  their  horses,  instead 
of  driving  chariots.  The  mass  of  fighting  men  is  hardly 
mentioned.  The  leaders  single  each  other  out,  and 
engage  hand  to  hand.  The  great  object  of  the  warriors 
on  both  sides  is,  as  in  the  Iliad,  to  obtain  possession 
of  the  spoils  and  bodies  of  the  slain ;  and  several 
circumstances  are  related  which  forcibly  remind  us  of 
the  great  slaughter  round  the  corpses  of  Sarpedon  and 
Patroclus. 

But  there  is  one  circumstance  which  deserves  especial 
notice.  Both  the  war  of  Troy  and  the  war  of  Regillus 
were  caused  by  the  licentious  passions  of  young  princes, 
who  were  therofore  peculiarly  bound  not  to  be  sparing 
of  their  own  persons  in  the  day  of  battle.  Now  the 
conduct  of  Sextus  at  Regillus,  as  described  by  Livy,  so 
exactly  resembles  that  of  Paris,  as  described  at  the 
beginning  of  the  third  book  of  the  Iliad,  that  it  is  diffi- 

*  M.  de  Pouilly  attempted,  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago,  to 
prove  that  the  story  of  Mucins  was  of  Greek  origin ;  bui  he  waq 

d6mie  des  Imcriptions,  vi.  27.  66. 


68 

^^Ys  OP  ANcimr  ROME. 

cult  to  believe  the  resemblance  accident,!    P    • 

before  the  Trojan  ranka,  defyinTtt  v      ^""rPP*""" 

encounter  him :  "wj'ng  the  bravest  Greek  to 

i-ivy  introduces  Sextus  in  a  simil., 

juvenun,  Tarquiniun,  ostent.nr       """"''■■  '^^^^^^ 

-ie.'     Menellsr„sh;::irPari:7r  "™'""' 
eager  for  vengeance,  spurs  his  IZ  ttlrr^' 

:r:'!:  ™  --  ^-'-*'^  terrori  r^-. 

larquinius,'  says   Liw     '  r»t,.„    • 
infenso  cessit  hosti '    If  tLy.      I  ^^^   ™»™n> 

RegiUus  was  decided    bv  s„ner„»?     ,         ^''''  ^"^  "^ 
"nd  Pollux,  it  was  said  hJT  .       "^  "^'""y-     Castor 
at  the  head'of  ZY^'o^^^  'TfJ'  ^™«''  -1  -ounted, 
afterwards  carried  tlfe  news  of  ,t  '"""'"''"^^'''*.  and  had 
«peed  to  the  city.     TlTZiln^l  T'^"'*  """"^'Wo 
J>ad  alighted  wis  poinTed  1"    WeVli"''"''  ^"^^ 
ancient  temple.     A   orpa*  «.,.,"  *''® '^'='' rose  their 
honour  on  the  Idefof  Oui!  T         '"'    ^'P'    '»   ^^eir 
anniversary  of  the  baftl.        !^     '  '"^^"""^    '"   ^   the 
Mcrifices  L.  „ff"--d        ;  '      ""  "'"'  '^'y  «umnt„o.,» 
—  ■•ff...d»  them  atthe public  charge.'    O^e 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


59 


spot  on  th3  margin  of  Lake  Regillns  was  regarded  during 
many  ages  with  superstitious  awe.  A  mark,  resembling 
in  shape  a  horse's  hoof,  was  discernible  in  the  volcanic 
rock ;  and  this  mark  was  believed  to  have  been  made  by 
one  of  the  celestial  chargers. 

How  the  legend  originated  cannot  now  be  ascertained : 
but   we    may  easily  imagine  several  ways   in    which  it 
might   have   originated;    nor   is   it   at  all  necessary  to 
suppose,  with   Julius   Frontinus,  that  two  young   men 
were  dressed  up  by  the  Dictator  to  personate  the  sons  of 
Leda.     It  is  probable  that  Livy  is  correct  when  he  says 
that  the  Roman  general,  in  the  hour  of  peril,  vowed  a 
temple  to  Castor.     If  so,  nothing  could  be  more  natural 
than  that  the  multitude  should  ascribe  the  victory  to  the 
favour  of  the  Twin  Gods.     When  such  was  the  prevailing 
sentiment,  any  man  who  chose  to  declare    that,  iu  the 
midst  of  the  confusion  and  slaughter,- he  had  seen  two 
godlike  forms   on   white  horses   scattering  the  Latines, 
would  find  ready  credence.     We  know,  indeed,  that,  in 
modem    times,    a    very  similar    story   actually    found 
credence  among  a  people  much  more  civilised  than  the 
Romans  of  the  fifth  century  before  Christ.     A  chaplain 
of  Cortes,  writing  about  thirty  years  after  the  conquest 
of  Mexico,  in  an  age  of  printing  presses,  libraries,  univer- 
sities, scholars,  logicians,  jurists,  and  statesmen,  had  the 
face   to    assert   that,    in    one    engagement   against   the 
Indians,  Saint  James  had  appeared  on  a  grey  horse  at 
the  head  of  the  Castilian  adventurers.     Many  of  those 
adventurers   were   living    when    this    lie   was   printed. 
One  of  them,  honest  Bernal  Diaz,  wrote  an  account  of 

+1,^ ju;^y,       TT.^  Vjs'l  ^^'^  PviflPTipp.  of  his  own  senses 

against  the  legend ;  but  he  seems  to  have  distrusted  even 


eo 


LAVS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME, 


il 


fi 


wio  oatwo,  and  tliat  ho  saw  a  irrov  hor^n  ^x.u\. 

lo  de'£,  'td  „:::  "'"■  'I, '"^  """^-""'  ^-'- 

uo  iiuiia,  and   not  fcho  cver-b  osscd  anosHn  «,.,•«* 
Ja»o,.      .Novonhelo.  -  Bor„,,l  ,.dd,  "it  ly  bo  Z 
tho  pcrsoa  on  the  groy  ho«o  was   the   glorious  ll 

to"'::  w'  ""tI  '"i^ ''  ^'"""^ """  'f  -'  -  ~  y 

TO  see  nun.      The  Romans  of  tho  a.^o  of   n;„«;       . 
TO«i.ii  ««^k  ui        .  "^  ^^    vyincinnatus 

i.iries  tno  j-mii.     It  18  therefore  conceivable  that 
the  appearance  of  C»,,tor  and  Pollux  ™ay  have  bee  1 

Jought  at  Regill,..,  had  pas.,ed  away.  Nor  could  anythinsr  be 

bear  the  tidings  of  victory  to  Home. 

bee^buiH  Tv""  '"""'''""'  ""  ^"'^  ^-^^  h«d 

tltlL?  •,      ""■•■"?'"'  '•^  ^'"''''    "">    «*«*«  annual ly 
te  tmed   ite  gratitude  for   their   protection.      Q„i„tus 

moitT       ^"P""\»-'-  -™  «>oeted  Censors  at  a 
momentous  ensis.     It  had  become  absolutely  necessary 

On  that  classification  depended  the  distribution  of  poli- 

seemed  to  be  in  danger  of  falling  under  the  dominion 

trZLLr""^f^"'^^  "'■  "^  ""  '""o^'""  "nd  head- 
strong rabble.     Under  such  eireumstances,  the  most  illus- 

tnous  patrician  and  the  most  illustrious  plebeian  of  the  age 

^ere  intrusted  with  the  office  of  arbitrating  between  L 

angry  factions,  and  they  performed  their  arduous  task  to 

we  sauaaotioa  of  all  honest  and  reasonable  men. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REOILLUS. 


ei 


Ono  of  their  reforms  was  a  remodelling  of  the  eques- 
trian order ;  and,  having  eflFected  this  reform,  they  deter- 
mined to  give  to  their  work  a  sanction    derived  from 
religion.      In  the  chivalrous  societies  of  modern  times, 
which  have  much  more  than  may  at  first  sight  appear  in 
common  with  the  equestrian  order  of  Rome,  it  has  been 
usual  to  invoke  the  special  protection  of  some  Saint,  and 
to  observe  his  day  with  peculiar  solemnity.     Thus  the 
Companions  of  the  Garter  wear  the  image  of  Saint  George 
depending  from  their  collars,  and  meet,  on  great  occasions, 
in  Saint  George's  Chapel.     Thus,  when  Lewis  the  Four- 
teenth instituted  a  new  order  of  chivalry  for  the  rewarding 
of  military  merit,  ho  commended  it  to  the  favour  of  his 
own  glorified  ancestor  and  patron,  and  decreed  that  all 
the  members  of  the  fraternity  should  meet  at  the  royal 
palace  on  the  feast  of  Saint  Lewis,  should  attend  the 
king  to  chapel,  should  hear  mass,  and  should  subsequently 
hold  their  great  annual    assembly.      There  is  a  consi- 
derable resemblance  between  this  rule  of  the  order  of 
Saint  I^ewis  and  the  rule  which  Fabius  and  Decius  made 
respecting  the  Roman  knights.     It  was  ordained  that  a 
grand  muster   and   inspection   of  the   equestrian  body 
should  be   part   of  the   ceremonial   performed,  on   the 
anniversary  of  the   battle   of    RegiUus,   in   honour   of 
Castor  and  Pollux,  the  two  equestrian  Gods.     All  the 
kni^-hts,  clad  in  purple  and  crowned  with  olive,  were  to 
meet  at  a  temple  of  Mars  in  the  suburbs.     Thence  they 
were  to  ride  in  state  to  the  Forum,  where  the  temple  of 
the    Twins    stood.     This  pageant    was,  during  several 
centuries,  considered  as  one  of  the  most  splendid  sights  of 
Rome.    In  the  time  of  Dionysius  the  cavalcade  some- 


'62 


J^'ArS  OF  ANCTENT  ROME. 


'o  who.,  by  the  oonXL  ;  «!!'  '"^  '''"""^' 

enco  of  the  public  worshin  IT      T'         ^P"""**-"!- 

that  those  high  l^Zt^tT     '■  """^  ''  ''  P™'"''"« 

.        fonu„ate  e„o"u,h  TZ  T^ZZ'l  CI^"' 

some  warrant  for  the  innovation  t™dit,ono 

thir;:;t:irz:r  ir  ""-^  ^^^"  -^o^  ^- 

the  religion,  festivals      "«„::    "Z  ""  f '"'*^'  "* 
iadeed  from  so  early  a  p^rioT  tW  '"'^  P'^""'''- 

ve.es  were popnlarl/aL^be  ItC::;:;'''^ '^r 
unintelligible  in  thp  «c,o     ^     ''"^^"oia,  and  were  utterly 

P-o  War  a  ^^^  i^St  If  S t  hotn^of^r "^ 

unoonth,  Lmert;2rwtrsrr  ^"^ 

A   song,    as  we   learn  from   Ho  1 1 1  ""'"f 

established  ritual  at  the  ^eaTsenllT  kT'  "'  *'^ 

therefore  likely  that  the  Censors  and  p"  rf    t     '*  '' 

•Bad  resolved  to  add  a  grand  p  o  esd'n  of  I   '  T'"  "'"^ 

other   solemnities   annually  peXre/n      ^fr]"  *''' 

Quiotili.,  would  eali  in  th"^,  awTa  It      S     .  '"  "' 

would  naturallv  f«lrp  f«    i,-       ,  ^      '     ^"^^  *  Poet 

H  the  ap^L:f y;?sr;s  r  r  "^•"'^^'- 

wxn  uoas,  and  the  institution 

t  Livj,  xxvu.  37.  +  4      « 

+  xiur.  v;armeu  oecuiare. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  RE0ILLU8, 


of  their  festival.     He  would  find  abundant  materials  in 
the  ballads  of  his  predecessors ;  and  he  would  make  free 
use  of  the  scanty  stock  of  Greek  learning  which  he  had 
himself  acquired.     He   would  probably  introduce  some 
wise   and  holy  Pontiff  enjoining  the  magnificent   cere- 
monial which,  after  a  long  interval,  had  at  length  been 
adopted.     If  the  poem  succeeded,  many  persons  would 
commit  it  to  memory.     Parts  of  it  would  be  sung  to  the 
pipe  at  banquets.     It  would  be  peculiarly  interesting  to 
the  great  Posthumian  House,  which  numbered  among  its 
many  images  that  of  the  Dictator  Aulus,    the  hero  of 
Regillus.     The  orator  who,  in  the  following  generation, 
pronounced    the  funeral  panegyric  over  the  remains   of 
Lucius    Posthumius    Megellus,    thrice    Consul,    would 
borrow  largely  from  the  lay;    and  thus  some  passages, 
much  disfigured,  would  probably  find  their  way  into  the 
chronicles  which  were  afterwards  in  the  hands  of  Diony- 
sius  and  Livy. 

Antiquaries  differ  widely  as  to  the  situation  of  the  field 
of  buttle.  The  opinion  of  those  who  suppose  that  the 
armies  met  near  Cornufelle,  between  Frascati  and  the 
Monte  Porzio,  is  at  least  plausible,  and  has  been  followed 
in  the  poem. 

As  to  the  details  of  the  battle,  it  has  not  been  thought 
desirable  to  adhere  minutely  to  the  accounts  which  have 
come  down  to  us.  Those  accounts,  indeed,  differ  widely 
from  each  other,  and,  in  all  probability,  differ  as  widely 
from  the  ancient  poem  from  'wrhich  they  were  originally 

derived. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  point  out  the  obvious  imitations 

of  the  Iliad,  which  have  been  purposely  introduced. 


thu 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


I. 

Ho,  trumpets,  sound  a  war-note  I 

Ho,  lictors,  clear  the  way  I 
The  Knights  will  ride,  in  all  their  pride 

Along  the  streets  to-day. 
To-daj  the  doors  and  windows 
Are  hung  with  garlands  all, 
From  Castor  in  the  Forum, 

To  Mars  without  the  wall. 
Each  Knight  is  robed  in  purple, 

With  olive  each  is  crowned ; 
A  gallant  war-horse  under  each 

Paws  haughtily  the  ground. 
While  flows  the  Yellow  River, 

While  stands  the  Sacred  Hill, 
The  proud  Ides  of  Quintilis 
Shail  have  such  honour  still. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REQILLUS. 

Q&j  are  the  Martian  Kalends : 

December's  Nones  are  gay : 
But  the  proud  Ides,  when  the  squadron  rides, 

Shall  be  Rome's  whitest  day. 

li. 

Unto  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

We  keep  this  solemn  feast. 
Swift,  swif^  the  Great  Twin  Brathren 

Game  spurring  from  the  east. 
They  came  o'er  wild  Parthenius 

Tossing  in  waves  of  pine, 
O'er  Cirrha'8  dome,  o'er  Adria's  foam, 

O'er  purple  Apennine, 
From  where  with  flutes  and  dances 

Their  ancient  mansion  rings, 
In  lordly  Lacedsemon, 

The  City  of  two  kings, 
To  where,  by  Lake  Regillus, 

Under  the  PorCian  height, 
All  in  the  lands  of  Tusculum, 

Was  fought  the  glorious  fight. 

III. 

Now  on  the  place  of  slaughter 

Are  cots  and  sheepfolds  seen, 
And  rows  of  vines,  and  fields  of  wheat, 

And  apple-orchards  green ; 
The  swine  crush  the  big  acorns 

That  fall  from  Gome's  oaks. 
Upon  the  turf  by  the  Fair  Fount 

The  reaper's  pottage  smokes. 
The  fisher  baits  bis  angle ; 

The  hunter  twangs  his  bow ; 


6ft 


^6 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

Little  they  think  on  those  strong  limbs 

That  moulder  deep  below. 
Little  they  think  how  sternly 

That  day  the  trumpets  pealed; 
How  in  the  slippery  swamp  of  blood 

Warrior  and  war-horse  reeled ; 
How  wolves  came  with  fierce  gallop, 

And  crows  on  eager  wings 

To  tear  the  flesh  of  captains, 
And  peck  the  eyas  of  kings; 

How  thick  the  dead  lay  scattered 

Under  the  Porcian  height; 
How  through  the  gates  of  Tusculum 

^  Raved  the  wild  stream  of  flight; 
And  how  the  Lake  Regillus 

Bubbled  with  crimson  foam, 
What  time  the  Thirty  Cities 

Came  forth  to  war  with  Rome. 

IV. 

But,  Roman,  when  thou  standewt 

Upon  that  holy  ground 
Look  thou  with  heed  on  the  dark  rock 

That  girds  the  dark  lake  round, 
So  Shalt  thou  see  a  hoof-mark 
Stamped  deep  into  the  flint: 
It  was  no  hoof  of  mortal  steed 

That  made  so  strange  a  dint : 
There  to  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 
^  Vow  thou  thy  vows,  and  pray 
That  they,  in  tempest  and  in  fight, 
Will  keep  thy  head  alway. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  RE0ILLU8. 


67 


V. 

Since  last  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Of  mortal  eyes  were  seen, 
Have  years  gone  by  an  hundred 

And  fourscore  and  thirteen. 
That  summer  a  Virginius 

"Was  Consul  first  in  place; 
The  second  was  stout  Aulus, 

Of  the  Posthumian  race. 
The  Herald  of  the  Latines 

From  Gabii  came  in  state : 
The  Herald  of  the  Latines 

Passed  through  Rome's  Eastern  Gate : 
The  Herald  of  the  Latines 

Did  in  our  Forum  stand ; 
And  there  he  did  his  office, 
A  sceptre  in  his  hand. 

VI. 

*  Hear,  Senators  and  people 

Of  the  good  town  of  Rome, 
The  Thirty  Cities  charge  you 

To  bring  the  Tarquins  home ; 
And  if  ye  still  be  stubborn. 

To  work  the  Tarquins  wrong. 
The  Thirty  Cities  warn  you. 

Look  that  your  walls  be  strong 

VII. 

Then  spake  the  Consul  Aulus, 

He  spake  a  bitter  jest : 

'  Once  the  jays  sent  a  message 

Unto  the  cuglc's  nest  :— 
E 


68 


I^AFS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

Now  yield  thou  up  thine  eyrie 

Unto  the  carrion-kite, 
Or  come  forth  valiantly,  and  face 

The  jays  in  deadly  fight.— 
Forth  looked  in  wrath  the  eagle  j 

And  carrion-kite  and  jay, 
Soon  as  they  saw  his  beak  and  claw, 

Fled  screaming  far  away.' 

viir. 

The  Herald  of  the  Latines 

Hath  hied  him  back  in  state  ; 
The  Fathers  of  the  City 
'     Are  met  in  high  debate. 
Then  spake  the  elder  Consul, 
An  ancient  man  and  wise  : 
*  Now  hearken,  Conscript  Pathera, 

To  that  which  I  advise. 
In  seasons  of  great  peril 

'Tis  good  that  one  bear  sway,- 
Then  choose  we  a  Dictator, 
Whom  all  men  shall  obey. 
Camerium  knows  how  deeply 

The  sword  of  Aulus  bites, 
And  all  our  city  calls  him 

The  man  of  seventy  fights. 
Then  let  him  be  Dictator 

For  six  months  and  no  more, 
And  have  a  Master  of  the  Knights, 
And  axes  twenty-four.' 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


69 


IX. 

So  Aulas  was  Dictator, 

The  man  of  seventy  fights ; 
He  made  -^butius  Elva 

His  Master  of  the  Knights. 
On  the  third  morn  thereafter, 

At  dawning  of  the  day, 
Did  Aulus  and  -(Ebutius 

Set  forth  with  their  array. 
Sempronius  Atratinus 

Was  left  in  charge  at  home 
With  boys,  and  with  grey-headed  men, 

To  keep  the  walls  of  Rome. 
Hard  by  the  Lake  Regillus 

Our  camp  was  pitched  at  night : 
Eastward  a  mile  the  Latines  lay. 

Under  the  Porcian  height. 
Far  over  hill  and  valley 

Their  mighty  host  was  spread ; 
And  with  their  thousand  watch-fires 

The  midnight  sky  was  red. 

X. 

Up  rose  the  golden  morning 

Over  the  Porcian  height, 
The  proud  Ides  of  Quintilis 

Marked  evermore  with  white. 
Not  without  secret  trouble 

Our  bravest  saw  the  foes ; 
For  girt  by  threescore  thousand  spears, 

The  thirty  standards  rose. 
From  every  warlike  city 

That  boasts  the  Latian  name, 


TO 


!f 


i! 


'f  f 


it 


LAYS  OF AJSrCIENT  HOME. 

Foredoomed  to  dogs  and  vultures, 

That  gallant  army  came- 
From  Setia's  purple  vineyards, 

From  Norba's  ancient  wall, 
From  the  white  streets  of  Tusculum, 

The  proudest  towu  of  all ; 
From  where  the  Witch's  Fortress 

O'erhangs  the  dark-bluo  seas; 
.  From  the  sUU  ghissy  lake  that  sleeps 

Beneath  Aricia's  trees— 
Those  trees  in  whoso  dim  shadow 

The  ghastly  priest  doth  reisfn, 
The  priest  who  slew  the  slayer 
And  shall  himself  be  slain  j 
From  the  drear  banks  of  Ufens 

Where  flights  of  marsh-fowl  play, 
And  buffaloes  lie  wallowing 

Through  the  hot  summer's  day; 
From  the  gigantic  watch-towers, 

No  work  of  earthly  men, 
Whence  Cora's  sentinels  o'erlook 

The  never-ending  fen ; 
From  the  Laurentian  jungle, 

The  wild  I  og's  reedy  home ; 
From  the  green  steeps  whence  Anio  leaps 
In  floods  of  snow-white  foam. 


XL 

Aricia,  Cora,  Norba, 
Velitrre,  with  the  might 

Of  Setia  and  of  Tusculum, 
Were  marshalled  on  the  right: 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGTLLUS. 

The  leader  was  Mamiliua, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name ; 
Upon  his  head  a  helmet 

Of  red  gold  shone  like  flame ; 
High  on  a  gallant  charger 

Of  dark-grey  hue  he  rode ; 
Over  his  gilded  armour 

A  vest  of  purple  flowed, 
Woven  in  the  land  of  sunrise 

By  Syria's  dark-browed  daughters, 
And  by  the  sails  of  Carthage  brought 

Far  o'er  the  southern  waters. 


71 


XII. 

Lavinium  and  Laiirentum 

Had  on  the  left  their  post, 
With  all  the  banners  of  the  marsh, 

And  banners  of  the  coast. 
Their  leader  was  false  Scxtus, 

That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame : 
With  restless  pace  and  haggard  face 

To  his  last  field  he  came. 
Men  said  he  saw  strange  visions 
Which  none  beside  might  see, 
And  that  strange  sounds  were  in  his  ears 

Which  none  might  hear  but  he. 
A  woman  fair  and  stately, 
But  pale  as  are  the  dead, 
Oft  through  the  watches  of  the  night 

Sat  spinning  by  his  bed. 
And  as  she  plied  the  distaff, 
In  a  sweet  voice  and  low, 


LAFS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

She  sang  of  great  old  houses, 
And  fights  fought  long^go. 

So  spun  she,  and  so  sang  she,' 
Until  the  east  was  grej 

Then  pointed  to  her  bleeding  breast 
And  shrieked,  and  fled  awaj.       ' 

XIII. 
But  in  the  centre  thickest 

Were  ranged  the  shields  of  foes, 
And  from  the  centre  loudest 

i'iie  cry  of  battle  rose. 
There  Tibur  marched  and  Pedum 
■  Bene^  th  proud  Tarquin'g  rule, 

And  Ferentinum  of  the  rock,    '       ■ 
AndGabiiofthepool. 

There  rode  the  Volscian  succours: 
There,  in  a  dark  stern  ring, 

The  Roman  exiles  gathered  close 

Around  the  ancient  king. 
Though  white  as  Mount  Soracte, 

When  winter  nights  are  long 

His  beard  flowed  down  o'er  mail  and  belt 

His  heart  and  hand  were  strong : 
Under  his  hoary  eyebrows 

Still  flashed  forth  quenchless  rage, 
And,  if  the  lance  shook  in  his  gripe,' 

'Twas  more  with  hate  than  age. 
Close  at  his  side  was  Titus 

On  an  Apulian  steed, 
Titus,  the  youngest  Tarquin, 
Too  good  f..;r  such  a  breed. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


73 


XIV. 

Now  on  each  side  the  leaders 

Give  signal  for  the  charge ; 
And  on  each  side  the  footmen 

Strode  on  with  lance  and  targe ; 
And  on  each  aide  the  horsemen 

Struck  their  spurs  deep  in  gore, 
And  front  to  front  the  armies 

Met  with  a  mighty  roar : 
And  under  that  great  battle 

The  earth  with  blood  was  red ; 
And,  like  the  Pomptine  fog  at  morn, 

The  dust  hung  overhead ; 
And  louder  still  and  louder 

Hose  from  the  darkened  field     " 
The  braying  of  the  war-horns, 

The  clang  of  sword  and  shield, 
The  rush  of  squadrons  sweeping 

Like  whirlwinds  o'er  the  plain. 
The  shouting  of  the  slayers, 

And  screeching  of  the  slain- 

XV. 

False  Sextug  rode  out  foremost: 

His  look  was  high  and  boldj 
His  corslet  was  of  bison's  hide, 

Plated  with  steel  and  gold. 
As  glares  the  famished  eagle 

From  the  Digentian  rock 
On  a  choice  lamb  that  bounds  alone 

Before  Bandusia's  flock,  ^ 

Herminius  glared  on  Sextus, 

.^iid  came  witu  eagle  speed. 


[I  If 


74 


f 


1 1 

1 

LA  YS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME, 

Herminius  on  black  Auster, 

Brave  champion  on  brave  steed  • 
Jn  his  right  hand  the  broadsword  ' 

That  kept  the  bridge  so  well, 
And  on  his  helm  the  crown  he  won 

When  proud  Fidena?  fell. 
Woe  to  the  maid  whose  lover 
Shall  cross  his  path  to-day  J 
False  Sextus  saw,  and  trembled, 

And  turned,  and  fled  away. 
As  turns,  as  flies,  the  woodman 
In  the  Calabrian  brake 

,  Of  that  fell  speckled  snake  J 
So  turned,  so  fled,  false  Septus, 

And  hid  him  in  the  rear, 
Behind  the  dark  Lavinian  ranks, 

Bristling  with  crest  and  spear! 

XVI. 

But  far  to  north  ^butius. 

The  Master  of  the  Knights, 
Gave  Tubero  of  Norba 

To  feed  the  Porcian  kites. 
Next  under  those  red  horse-hoofs 

Flaccus  of  Setialayj 
Better  had  he  been  pruning 
Among  his  elms  that  day. 
Mamilius  saw  the  slaughter, 

And  tossed  his  golden  crest, 
And  towards  the  Master  of  the  Knights 
Through  the  thick  battle  pressed. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  RE0ILLU3. 

^butius  smote  Mamilius 

So  fiercely  on  the  shield 
That  the  great  lord  of  Tusculum 

Well  nigh  rolled  on  the  field. 
Mamilius  smote  vEbiitius, 

With  a  good  aim  and  true, 
Just  where  the  neck  and  shoulder  join, 

And  pierced  him  through  and  through; 
And  brave  ^butius  Elva 

Fell  swooning  to  the  ground : 
But  a  thick  wall  of  bucklers 

Encompassed  him  around. 
His  clients  from  the  battle 

Bare  him  some  little  space. 
And  filled  a  helm  from  the  dark  lake, 

And  bathed  his  brow  and  face ; 
And  when  at  last  he  opened 

His  swimming  eyes  to  light, 
Men  say,  the  earliest  word  he  spake 

Was, '  Friends,  how  goes  the  fight  ? ' 

XVII. 


But  meanwhile  in  the  centre 

Great  deeds  of  arms  were  wrought; 
There  Aulus  the  Dictator 

And  there  Valerius  fought. 
Aulus  with  his  good  broadsword 

A  bloody  passage  cleared 
To  where,  amidst  the  thickest  foes, 

He  saw  the  long  white  beard. 
Flat  lighted  that  good  broadsword 

Upon  proud  Tarquiu's  head. 


7« 


I 


I 


III 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROMS. 

He  dropped  the  lance:  he  dropped  the  reins 
He  fell  as  fall  the  dead. 

Down    A'llll,    v,,,,^^g    t,o    gJa^    Jj.^^ 

With  ^-,.j;  ,.'.    r^alsoffirej 
But  faster  Titus  hath  sprung  down, 

And  hath  bestrode  his  sire. 
Latian  captains,  Homan  knights, 

Fast  down  to  earth  \hoj  -,  ,p 
And  hand  to  hand  they  fight'on  foot 

Around  the  ancient  king. 
First  Titus  gave  tall  Ca?so 

A  death  wound  in  the  face ; 
Tall  Cjrso  was  the  bravest  mau 
;,0f  the  brave  Fabian  race : 
Aulus  slew  Rex  of  Gabii, 

The  priest  of  Juno's  shrine: 
Valerius  smote  down  Julius, 

Of  Rome's  great  Julian  line; 
Julius,  who  left  his  mansion 

Highon  the  Velian  hill, 
And  through  all  turns  of  weal  and  woe 

Followed  proud  Tarquin  still. 
Now  right  across  proud  Tarquin 

A  corpse  was  Julius  laid ; 
And  Titus  groaned  with  rage  and  grief, 

And  at  Valerius  made. 
Valerius  struck  at  Titus, 

And  lopped  off  half  his  crest ; 
But  Titus  stabbed  Valerius 

A  span  deep  in  the  breast.     - 
Like  a  mast  snapped  by  the  tempest, 
Valerius  reeled  and  fell. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGTLLUS. 


77 


Ah !  woe  18  mo  for  the  good  h6uae 

That  loves  the  people  well  I 
Then  shouted  loud  the  Latines ; 

And  with  one  rush  they  bore 
The  struggling  Romans  backward 

Three  lances'  length  and  more: 
And  up  they  took  proud  Tarquin, 

And  laid  him  on  a  shield, 
And  four  strong  yeomen  bare  him, 

Still  senseless,  from  the  field. 

XVIII. 

But  fiercer  grew  the  fighting 

Around  Valerius  dead ; 
For  Titus  dragged  him  by  the  foot, 

And  Aulus  by  the  head. 
'  On,  Latines,  on  1'   quoth  Titus, 

'  See  how  the  rebels  fly  1 ' 
'Romans,  stand  firm!'  quoth  Aulus, 

'  And  win  this  fight  or  die  I 
They  must  not  give  Valerius 

To  raven  and  to  kite ; 
For  aye  Valerius  loathed  the  wrong, 

And  aye  upheld  the  right : 
And  for  your  wives  and  babies 

In  the  front  rank  he  fell. 
Now  play  the  men  for  the  good  house 

That  loves  the  people  well  1' 

XIX. 

Then  tenfold  round  the  body 

The  roar  of  battle  rose, 
Like  the  roar  of  a  burning  forest, 

When  a  strong  north  wind  blows. 


78 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

Now  backward,  and  now  forward, 

Rocked  furiously  the  fray, 
Till  none  could  see  Valerius, 

And  none  wist  where  he  lay. 
For  shivered  arms  and  ensigns 

Were  heaped  there  in  a  mound, 
And  corpses  stiff,  and  dying  men 

That  writhed  and  gnawed  the  ground ; 
And  wounded  horses  kicking, 
And  snorting  purple  foam : 
Right  well  did  such  a  couch  befit 
A  Consular  of  Rome. 


XX. 

But  north  looked  the  Dictator; 

North  looked  he  long  and  hard  ; 
And  spake  to  Caius  Oossus, 

The  Captain  of  his  Guard ; 
'Caius,  of  all  the  Romans 

Thou  hast  the  keenest  sight  • 
Say,  what  through  yonder  storm  of  dust 

Comes  from  the  Latian  right?' 

XXI. 

Then  answered  Caius  Oossus : 

'  I  see  an  evil  sight  ; 
The  banner  of  proud  Tusculum 

Comes  from  the  Latian  right  ; 
I  pee  the  plumed  horsemen  j 

And  far  before  the  rest 
I  see  the  dark-grey  charger, 
I  see  the  purple  vest ; 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


79 


I  see  the  golden  helmet 

That  shinca  far  off  like  flame ; 
Bo  ever  rides  Marailius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name.' 

XXII. 

'  Now  hearken,  Oaiua  Oossus : 

Spring  on  thy  horse's  back  ; 
Ride  as  the  wolves  of  Apennine 

Were  all  upon  thy  track  ; 
Haste  to  our  southward  battle : 

And  never  draw  thy  rein 
Until  thou  find  Herminius, 

And  bid  him  come  amain.' 


I 


XXIII. 

So  Aulas  spake,  and  turned  him 

Again  to  that  fierce  strife  ; 
And  Caius  Oossus  mounted, 

And  rode  for  death  and  life. 
Loud  clanged  beneath  his  horse-hoofs 

The  helmets  of  the  dead, 
And  many  a  curdling  pool  of  blood 

Splashed  him  from  heel  to  head. 
So  came  he  far  to  southward. 

Where  fought  the  Roman  host, 
Against  the  banners  of  the  marsh 

And  banners  of  the  coast. 
Like  corn  before  the  sickle 

The  stout  Lavinians  fell, 
Beneath  the  edge  of  the  true  sword 

TVjn*  V-y-r^*  +U"  \^~:a — 11 


80 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


vX  IB    ! 


XXIV. 

'IlcrtniniusI  Aulas  greets  tlico; 
i\v>  bids  ihcu  como  with  speed 
To  lielp  our  coulnil  battle  ; 

For  sore  .'^  there  our  need. 
There  wars  the  youngost  Tarquin, 

And  there  the  Orest  of  Flame 
The  Tusculan  Mumilius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name. 
Valerius  hath  fallen  fighting 

In  front  of  our  array : 
And  Aldus  of  the  seventy  fields 
Alone  upholds  the  day.' 

XXV. 

Hcrminius  beat  his  bosom : 

But  never  a  word  ho  spako. 
Ho  clapped  his  Hnd  on  Auster's  mane : 

He  gave  the  reins  a  shako, 
Away,  away  went  Austcr, 

Like  an  arrow  from  the  bow ; 
Black  Auster  was  the  fleetest  steed 

From  Aufidus  to  Po. 

XXVI. 

Right  glad  were  all  the  Romans 

Who,  in  that  hour  of  dread, 
Against  great  odds  bare  up  the  war 

Around  Valerius  dead. 
When  from  the  south  the  cheering 

Rose  with  a  mighty  swell; 
'Hcrminius  comes,  Hcrminius, 

Who  kept  the  bridge  so  well !' 


U  i 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


81 


XXVII. 
Mamilius  spied  HerminiuB, 

And  dashed  across  the  way. 
'llerminius  I  I  have  sought  the© 

Through  many  a  bloody  day. 
One  of  us  two,  llerminius, 

Shall  never  more  go  homo. 
I  will  lay  on  for  Tusculum, 

And  lay  thou  on  for  Homo  I ' 

XXVIIT. 
All  round  them  paused  the  battle, 

While  mot  in  mortal  fray 
The  Roman  and  the  Tusculan, 
The  horses  black  and  grey. 
Herminius  smote  Mamilius 

Through  breast-plate  and  through  breast; 
And  fast  flowed  out  the  purple  blood 

Over  the  purple  vest. 
Mamilius  smote  Herminius 

Through  head  piece  and  through  head  ; 
And  side  by  side  those  chiefs  of  pride 

Together  fell  down  dead. 
Down  fell  they  dead  together 

In  a  great  lake  of  gore  ; 
And  still  stood  all  who  saw  them  fall 
While  men  might  count  a  score. 

XXIX. 

Fast,  fast,  with  heels  wild  spurning, 

The  dark-grey  charger  fled : 
He  burst  through  ranks  of  fighting  men  j 

Ho  sprang  o'er  heaps  of  dead. 


I 


82 


1(1 


I 


i; 


I',      I 

11 


LAVS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME, 

His  bridle  far  out-streaming, 

His  flanks  all  blood  and  foam, 
He  sought  tiiG  southern  mountains. 

The  mountains  of  his  home. 
The  pass  was  steep  and  rugged 

The  wolves  they  howled  and  whined; 
But  he  ran  like  a  whirlwind  up  the  pass, 

And  he  left  the  wolves  behind. 
Through  many  a  startled  hamlet 

Thundered  his  flying  foet  ; 
He  rushed  through  the  gate  of  Tusculum, 

He  rushed  up  the  long  white  street  j 
He  rushed  by  tower  and  temple, 
And  paused  not  from  his  race 
'  Till  he  stood  before  his  master's  door 

In  the  stately  market-place. 
And  straightway  round  him  gathered 

A  pale  and  trembling  crowd 
And  when  obey  knew  him,  cries  of  rage 

Brake furth,  and  wailing  loud: 
And  women  rent  their  tresses 
For  their  great  prince's  fall ; 
And  old  men  girt  on  their  old  swords. 
And  went  to  man  the  wall. 


1 1 


XXX. 

But,  like  a  graven  image. 
Black  Auster  kept  his  place, 

And  ever  wistfully  he  looked 
luto  his  master's  face. 

The  raven-mane  that  dailv. 
With  pats  and  fond  caresses, 


BATTLE  or  THE  LAKE  REQILLUS, 

The  young  Herrainia  washed  and  combed, 

And  twined  in  even  tresscti 
And  decked  with  coloured  ribands 

From  her  own  gay  attire, 
Hung  sadly  o'er  her  father's  corpse 

In  carnage  and  in  miro. 
Forth  with  a  shout  sprang  Titus, 
And  seized  black  Auster's  rein. 
Then  Aulus  sware  a  fearful  oath, 

And  ran  at  him  amain. 
'  The  furies  of  tiiy  brother 

With  me  and  mine  abide, 
If  one  of  your  accursed  house 

Upon  black  Auster  ride  1' 
As  on  an  Alpine  watch-tower 

From  heaven  comes  down  the  flame, 
Full  on  the  neck  of  Titus 

The  blade  of  Aulus  came : 
And  out  the  red  blood  spouted, 

In  a  wide  arch  and  tall, 
As  spouts  a  fountain  in  the  court 

Of  some  rich  Capuan's  hall. 
The  knees  of  all  the  Latines 

Were  loosened  with  dismay 
When  dead,  on  dead  Herminius, 
The  bravest  Tarquin  lay. 


83 


XXXT. 

And  Aulus  the  Dictator 
Stroked  Auster's  raven  mane. 

With  heed  he  looked  unto  the  girths 
With  heed  unto  ihe  rein. 
F 


64 


f.iVS  oy  ANVtKNT  IIOMN, 

•  Now  Ifonr  wvy  ^vdl,  hiaok  Aiih(«m', 

lulu  yon  (|ii(>K  m-i'iiy  ; 
Ami  tliMit  Mild  I  will  li 


For  11 


ii,vi>  n\V(>ii(;fn 


0'  g«""l  lonl  tliirt  (liiy, 


XXXII. 
Ho  «|iiiko  ho  ;  itMil  wnM  l)iu'klliijjf 

TiKhtoi*  liliiok  AiiHUn-'Ml.aiul, 
When  lu>  wan  iiwiuc  of  a  piliict-l)'  jiulp 

Tliivl  nulo  i\l  his  rljiht  hiuid. 
Ho  liko  ||H7  woiv,  uo  UlOI'lllI 

Might  ono  tVoni  dihcr  know: 
\VhiU>i\H«U(>\v  I  heir  ariiiour  wuh  ; 

Thoir  iti.HMifi  wi'iv  whUo  uti  .saow. 
!rfev'.'f  ou  omihl.v  fiuvil 

Did  such  viiro  iiruuuir  ^>|,.m,i ; 
And  novor  did  Huoh  Kulliuii  sU>i'd.< 

Drink  of  luv  oarl"»ly  f^tivi-Mi. 

X  X  \  III , 
And  all  who  saw  Ihoui  livinldod, 

\x\k\  jialo  givw  ovory  rhook ; 
And  Aulus  tho  Dictator 

Scarce  K'^lhcrcd  v^ioo  to  spoak. 
*Say  by  whatnanio  luou  call  you? 

What  city  is  your  homo? 
And  whcivfiMv  ride  yc  in  such  guiso 
liiJoixi  the  ranks  of  Konio?* 

XXXIV. 

*  By  many  names  men  will  us  ; 

In  many  lands  we  dwell : 
Well  Sjimothnicia  knows  us ; 

Cyreue  knows  i:s  well. 


Iv^O- 


BATThU  Oir  THE  LAKE  RFMILLUS. 

Otjr  Jioii«o  In  %y\.y{  Tfironttim 

U  liunj<  ('(Kill  iiiorti  with  flowcra: 
Ifigli  o'er  the  imwtrt  of  HymcuMo 

Our  niarblo  portal  tovv,,^'^; 
iJiit  \))j  the  j)rou(l  Kiirotus 

1m  our  dear  nativre  home; 
And  for  the  rijtjht  wo  como  to  fight 

JJeforo  the  raiikH  of  lloino.' 

XXXV, 

Ho  answered  ihoBo  utratigo  horsemen 

And  each  ooiiehed  low  hia  spear  • 
And  forthwith  all  the  ranks  of  Homo 

Were  bold,  and  of  good  cheer : 
And  on  the  thirty  armies 

''ame  wonder  and  affright, 
And  Ardejv  wavered  on  the  left, 

And  Cora  on  the  right. 
Mlomo  to  the  charge  I '  cried  Aulus  ; 

"^The  foo  begins  to  yield  I 
Charge  for  the  liearth  of  Vesta  I 
Charge  for  the  Golden  Shield  I 
Jjot  no  man  stop  to  plunder, 

13ut  shiy,  and  slay,  a  id  slay  ; 
The  gods  who  live  for  ever 
Are  on  our  side  to-day.' 


85 


XXXVT. 

The-  .:.:■  lierce  trnmpct-flourish 

'  .ofi   arth  to  heaven  arose. 
The  kites  know  well  I  he  long  stern  swell 

That  bids  the  Romans  close. 


86 


LAirS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

Then  the  good  sword  of  Aulus 

Was  lifted  up  to  slav  : 
Then,  like  a  crag  down  Apennine, 

Rushed  Auster  through  the  fray. 
But  under  those  strange  horsemen 

Still  thicker  lay  the  slain  ; 
And  after  those  strange  horses 

Black  Auster  Joiled  in  vain. 
Behind  them  Rome's  long  battle 

Came  rolling  ou  the  foe, 
Ensigns  danciug  wild  above, 

Blades  all  in  line  below. 
!Su  comes  the  Po  in  ilood-time 

Upon  the  Celtic  plain : 
So  comes  tJ-e  squall,  blacker  than  night, 

Upon  the  Adrian  main. 
Now,  by  our  Sire  Quirinus, 

It  was  a  goodly  sight 
To  see  the  thirty  standards 

Swept  down  the  tide  of  flight. 
So  flies  the  spray  of  Adria 

When  the  black  squall  doi,h  blow. 
So  corn-sheaves  in  the  flood- time 

Spin  down  the  whirling  Po. 
False  Sextus  to  the  mountains' 

Turned  tirst  his  horse's  head  j 
And  fast  fled  Ferentinum, 

And  fast  Lanuvium  fled. 
The  horsemen  of  Nomentum 

Spurred  hard  out  of  the  frayj 
The  footmen  of  Velitrse 

Threw  shield  and  spear  away. 


It  ! 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 

And  underfoot  was  trampled, 

Amidst  the  mud  and  gore, 
The  banner  of  proud  Tusculum, 

That  never  stooped  before  : 
And  down  went  Flavins  Paqstus, 

Who  led  his  stately  ranks 
From  where  the  apple  blossoms  wavo 

On  Anio's  echoing  banks, 
And  Tullus  of  Arplnum, 

Chief  of  the  Volscian  aids, 
And  Melius  with  the  long  fair  curls, 

The  love  of  Anxnr's  maids, 
And  the  white  head  of  Vulso, 

The  great  Arician  seer, 
And  Nepos  of  Laurentum, 

The  hunter  of  the  deer  ; 
And  in  the  back  false  Sextus 

Felt  the  good  Roman  steel, 
And  wriggling  in  the  dust  he  died, 

Like  a  worm  beneath  the  wheel : 
And  fliers  and  piu-suars 

Were  mingled  in  a  masii ; 
And  far  awaj  the  batlie 
Went  roaring  through  the  pass. 


87 


XXXVII. 

Sempronius  Atratinus 
Sate  in  the  Eastern  Gate, 

Beside  him  were  three  Fathers, 
Each  in  his  chair  of  state ; 

Fabius,  whose  nine  stout  grandsons 
That  day  were  in  the  field, 


88 


CATS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

And  Manlius,  eldest  of  the  Twelve 

Who  kept  the  Golden  Shield : 
And  Sergius,  the  High  Pontiff, 

For  wisdom  far  renowned ; 
In  all  Etruria's  colleges 

Was  no  such  Pontiff  found. 
And  all  around  the  portal, 

And  high  above  the  wall, 
Stood  a  great  throng  of  people, 

But  sad  and  silent  all ; 
Young  lads,  and  stooping  elders 
Thai  might  not  bear  the  mail, 
Matrons  with  lips  that  quivered, 

And  maids  with  faces  pale. 
Since  the  first  gleam  of  dajlight, 

Sempronius  had  r      ceased 
To  listen  for  the  rushu.^ 

Of  horse-hoofs  from  the  east. 
The  mist  of  eve  was  rising, 

The  sun  was  hastening  down. 
When  he  was  aware  of  a  princely  pair 

Fast  pricking  towards  the  town. 
So  like  they  were,  man  never 

Saw  twins  so  like  before  ; 
Red  with  gore  their  armour  was. 
Their  steeds  were  red  with  gore. 


XXXVIII. 
'  Hail  to  the  great  Asylum  I 

Hail  to  the  hill-tops  seven  I 
Hail  to  the  fire  thai  burns  for  aye 

And  the  shield  that  fell  from  heaven! 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REUILLUS,  $0 


This  daj,  by  Lake  Regillug, 

Under  the  Porcian  height. 
All  in  the  lands  of  Tusculum 

Was  fought  a  glorious  fight. 
To-morrow  your  Dictator 

Shall  bring  in  triumph  home 
The  spoils  of  thirty  cities 

To  deck  the  shrines  of  Rome  I 


XXXIX. 

Then  burst  from  that  great  concourse 

A  shout  that  shook  the  towers, 
And  some  ran  north,  and  some  ran  south, 

Crying, 'The  day  is  ours  I' 
But  on  rode  these  strange  horsemen, 

With  slow  and  lordly  pace ; 
And  none  who  saw  their  bearing 

Durst  ask  their  name  or  race. 
On  rode  they  to  the  Forum, 

While  laurel-boughs  and  flowers, 
From  house-tops  and  from  windows 

Fell  on  their  crests  in  showers. 
When  they  drew  nigh  to  Vesta, 

They  vaulted  down  amain, 
And  washed  their  horses  in  the  well 

That  springs  by  Vesta's  fane. 
And  straight  again  they  mounted, 

And  rode  to  Vesta's  door; 
Then,  like  a  blast,  away  they  passed, 
And  no  man  saw  them  more. 


90 


•  LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


XL. 

And  all  the  people  trembled, 

And  pale  grew  every  cheek  | 
And  Sergius  the  High  Pontiff 
Alone  found  voice  to  speak  : 
*The  gods  who  live  for  ever 

Have  fought  for  Rome  to-day  I 
These  be  the  Great  Twin  Brethrea 

To  whom  the  Dorians  pray. 
Back  comes  the  Chief  in  triumph, 

Who,  in  the  hour  of  fight, 
Hath  seen  tho  Great  Twin  Brethren 

(Pn  harness  on  his  right. 
Safe  comes  the  ship  to  haven, 

Through  billows  and  through  gales, 
If  once  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Sit  shining  on  the  sails. 
Wherefore  they  washed  their  horses 

In  Vesta's  holy  well. 
Wherefore  they  rode  to  Vesta's  door, 

I  know,  but  may  not  tell. 
Here,  hard  by  Vesta's  Temple, 

Build  we  a  stately  dome 
Unto  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Who  fought  so  well  for  Rome. 
And  when  the  months  returning 

Bring  back  this  day  of  fight, 
The  proud  Ides  of  QuiLtilis, 

Marked  evermore  with  white. 
Unto  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 
Let  all  the  people  throng, 


BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  RE  GILL  US. 


91 


With  cliaplets  and  with  offerings, 

With  music  and  with  song ; 
And  let  the  doors  and  Avindows 

Bo  hung  with  garlands  all, 
And  let  the  Knights  be  s'lmmoncd 

To  Mars  without  the  wall : 
''^hcnce  let  them  ride  in  purple 

With  joyous  trumpet-sound, 
Each  mounted  on  his  war-liorse. 

And  each  with  olive  crowned  ; 
And  pass  in  solemn  order 

Before  til     icred  dome, 
Where  dwell  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Who  fought,  so  well  for  Rome  !' 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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fjy 


VIRGI^-IA. 


A  COLLECTION  consisting  exclusively  of  war-songs  would 
give  an  imperfect,  or  rather  an  erroneous,  notion  of  the 
spirit  of  the  old  Latin  ballads.     The  Patricians,  during 
more  than  a  century  after  the  expulsion  of  the  King-s, 
held  all  the  high  military  commands.     A  Plebeian,  ev^en 
though,  like  Lucius  Siccius,  he  were  distinguished  by  his 
valour  and  knowledge  of  war,  could  serve  only  in  subor- 
dinate posts.     A  minstrel,  therefore,  who  wished  to  cele- 
brate the  early  triumphs  of  his  country,  could  hardly 
take  any  but  Patricians  for  his  heroes.     The  warriors 
who  are  mentioned  in  the  two  preceding  lays,  Horatius, 
Lartius,  Herminius,  Aulus  Posthumius,  ^butius  Elva 
Sempronius  Atratinus,  Valerius  Poplicola,  were  all  mem- 
bers of  the  dominant  order;  and  a  poet  who  was  singing 
their  praises,  whatever  his  own  political  opinions  might 
be,  would  naturally  abstain  from  insulting  the  class  to 
which  they  belonged,  and  from  reiRecting  on  the  system 
which  had  placed  such  men  at  the  head  of  the  legions  of 
the  Commonwealth. 


VIRGINIA. 


93 


But  there  was  a  class  of  compositions  in  whicii  the  great 
families  were  by  no  means  so  courteously  treated.  No 
parts  of  early  Roman  history  are  richer  with  poetical 
colouring  than  those  which  relate  to  the  long  contest 
between  the  privileged  houses  and  the  commonalty.  The 
population  of  Rome  was,  from  a  very  early  period,  divided 
into  hereditary  castes,  which,  indeed,  readily  united  to 
repel  foreign  enemies,  but  which  regarded  each  other, 
during  many  years,  with  bitter  animosity.  Between 
those  castes  there  was  a  barrier  hardly  less  sttong  than 
that  which,  at  Venice,  parted  the  members  of  the  Great 
Council  from  their  countrymen.  In  some  respects,  indeed, 
the  line  which  separated  an  Icilius  or  a  Duilius  from  a 
Posthumius  or  a  Fabius  was  even  more  deeply  marked 
than  that  which  separated  the  rower  of  a  gondola  from  a 
Contarini  or  a  Morosini.  At  Venice  the  distinction  was 
merely  civil.  At  Rome  it  was  both  civil  and  religious. 
Among  the  grievances  under  which  the  Plebeians  suffered, 
three  were  felt  as  peculiarly  severe.  They  were  excluded 
from  the  highest  magistracies;  they  were  excluded  from 
all  share  in  the  public  lands ;  and  they  were  ground  down 
to  the  dust  by  partial  and  barbarous  legislation  touching 
pecuniary  contracts.  The  ruling  class  in  Rome  was  a 
monied  class;  and  it  made  and  administered  the  laws 
with  a  view  solely  to  its  own  interest.  Thus  the  relation 
between  lender  and  borrower  was  mixed  up  with  the  rela- 
tion between  sovereign  and  subject.  The  great  men  held 
a  large  portion  of  the  community  in  dependence  by  means 
of  advances  at  enormous  usury.  The  iaw  of  debt,  framed 
by  creditors,  and  for  the  protection  of  creditors,  was  the 
most  horrible  that  has  ever  been  known  among  men.  The 
liberty,  and  even  the  life,  of  the  insolvent  were  at  the 


94 


ZArs  OF  ANCIENT  ROMS. 


mercy  of  the  Patrician  money-lenders.     Children  often 

.:::::  TrcLr"""-"-^  -^  '-^  -fort„nerof £ 

parents  The  debtor  wa.s  imprisoned,  not  in  a  public  eaol 
,  under  the  care  of  impartial  public  functionaries  but  fn  a 
pr.vate  workhouse  belonging  to  the  credit  'pnVhLl 
«to„es  were  told  respecting  these  dungeons.  It  wrsMd 
that  torture  and  brutal  violation  were  common  ZT.Tt 
stocks,  heavy  ^^^^^^  measures  oTfl,' :t  2 

to  punish  wretehe.  guilty  of  nothing  but  poverly  ^d 
that  brave  soldier.,  whose  breasts  Le  covIred'wTtJ 
honourable  scars,  were  often  marked  still  more  deeply  on 
the  back  by  the  scourges  of  high-born  usurers         '^ 

-i-ne  i^lebeians  were,  however  nnf  TrV.«ii       '.^ 
stitutional  riches      From  !        i  ^  '''*^^"*  ^°'^- 

admitf^H  fo  l  ^^'^^  P""«^  thej  had  been 

interval  between  the  year  1792  and  the  year  1829      The 

cet  Cod  S"  *^  r^  "'""""^"^  ''PP  A  offi- 
cers, named  Tribunes,  who  had  no  active  share  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  Commonwealth,  but  who,  by  degrees,  a^qS 
a  power  formidable  even  to  the  ablest  and  mos  reso  ut« 
Consuls  and  Dictators.      The  person  of  the  Tr  bun    w^ 

TT:i  '"'•  *'"'"='''  '"^  <">»'<»  <!--%  eflfeot  Htt  e  h^ 
could  obstruct  everything.  ' 

During  more  than  a  century  after  the  institution  of  the 

r!mo:rX*"  '""""""^  ^'™'"^"«^  -°f»»7  for  t 
Tnrr^    /   .  ^™™™''  """^'^'  ^•''"h  they  laboured: 
and,  m  spite  of  many  checks  and  reverses,  succeeded  in 


VIRQINIA. 


95 


wringing  concession  after  concession  from  the  stubborn 
aristocracy.  At  length  in  the  year  of  the  city  378,  both 
parties  mustered  their  whole  strength  for  their  lust  and 
most  desperate  conflict.  The  popular  and  active  Tribune, 
Caius  Lioinius,  proposed  the  three  memorable  laws  which 
are  called  by  his  name,  and  which  were  intended  to  redress 
the  three  great  evils  of  which  the  Plebeians  complained. 
He  was  supported,  with  eminent  ability  and  firmness,  by 
his  colleague,  Lucius  Sextius.  The  struggle  appears  to 
have  been  the  fiercest  that  ever  in  any  community  termi- 
nated without  an.  appeal  to  arms.  If  such  a  contest  had 
raged  in  any  Greek  city,  the  streets  would  have  run  with 
blood.  But,  even  in  the  paroxysms  of  faction,  the  Roman 
retained  his  gravity,  his  respect  for  law,  and  his  tenderness 
for  tr.c  lives  of  his  fellow-citizens.  Year  after  year  Lici- 
nius  and  Sextius  were  re-elected  Tribunes.  Year  after 
year,  if  the  narrative  which  has  come  down  to  us  is  to  be 
trusted,  they  continued  to  exert,  to  the  full  extent,  their 
power  of  stopping  the  whole  machine  of  government.  No 
curule  magistrates  could  be  chosen;  no  military  muster 
could  be  held.  We  know  too  little  of  the  state  of  Rome 
In  those  days  to  be  able  to  conjecture  how,  during  that  long 
anarchy,  the  peace  was  kept,  and  ordinary  justice  adminis- 
tered between  mau  and  man.  The  animosity  of  both 
parties  rose  to  the  greatest  height.  The  excitement,  wo 
may  well  suppose,  would  have  been  peculiarly  intense  at 
the  annual  election  of  Tribunes.  On  such  occasions  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  great  families  did  all  that  could 
be  done,  by  threats  and  caresses,  to  break  the  union  ol'  the 
Plebeians.  That  union,  however,  proved  indissoluble. 
At  length  the  good  cause  triumphed.  The  Licinian  laws 
were  carried.  Lucius  Sextius  was  the  first  Plebeian  Con- 
sul, Caius  Licinius  the  third. 


tiMwEUjagaggss; 


96 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


The  results  of  this  great  change  were  singularly  hapnv 
victory,  followed  the  reconciliation  of  the  orders     M^n  w^! 

J^Tx    ^  -.M    '^'  ^"P""'  ""^-l  '"  «««  her  the  mistress 
ot  Italy.  Wh,  e  the  disabilities  of  the  Plebeians  contk^d 

vIIIT:;'"/''  '^  '"""^"'  t"gro„„dagai„stthe 

removed,  she   rapidly  became   more  thaa   a  match  for 
Carthage  and  Macedon. 

we!^"!!.?'  ^'?  ^''''''''"'  ^"'"^^'  *«  P'^be'"-'  poets 
were  doubtless,  not  silent.     Even  ia  modern  times  son..s 

have  been  by  no  means  withont  influence  on  public  affair^- 

and  we  may  therefore  infer  that,  in  a  society  where  pS 

was  unknown,  and  where  books  were  rarl,  a  pathetic  „"r 

humorous  party-ballad  must  have  produced  effects  s„  h  a« 

we  can  but  faintly  conceive.  It  is  certain  that  satirical  poemi 

were  common  at  Home  from  a  very  early  period.     The 

rustics,  who  lived  at  a  distance  from  the  seat  of  govern! 

n    T?T  ^"^  '""''  ""'""'^'''^^  '»  «»=''«^  Fescennine 
veise.  Ihe  lampoons  of  the  city  were  doubtless  of  a  higher 

order;  and  their  sting  was  early  felt  by  the  nobility.    For 

m  the  Twelve  Tables,  long  before  the  time  of  the  Liciniaa 

laws,  a  severe  punishment  was  denounced   against  the 

citizen  who  should  compose  or  recite  verses  reflecting  on 

another.*     Satire  is,  indeed,  the  only  sort  of  composition 

La*tin'rV'°'r^  '"''"  ''™°'  '"'  ^""^  "«"  *'=«  h-d  been  early 
^ul  r  7  °''  '""*'  '"'*  ^"^  '°^'  before  Ws  time.  <Quam^ 
Zclt^ZT  f  ■"","'  '"'"""  ^"'"''    '■  -"*  J""  '"■»  »°1"™ 


VIRGINIA. 


97 


in  which  the  Latin  poets,  whose  works  have  come  down  to 
us,  were  not  mere  imitators  of  foreign  models ;  and  it  is 
therefore  the  only  sort  of  composition  in  which  they  have 
never  been  rivalled.     It  was  not,  like  their  tragedy,  their 
comedy,  their   epic  and   lyric  poetry,  a  hothouse  plant 
which,  in  return  for  assiduous  and  skilful  culture,  gave 
only  scanty  and  sickly  fruits.     It  was  hardy  and  full  of 
sap ;  and  in  all  the  various  juices  which  it  yielded  might 
be  distinguished  the  flavour  of  the  Ausonian  soil.   *  Satire,' 
says  Quinctilian,  with  just  pride,  '  is  all  our  own.'    Satire 
sprang,  in  truth,   naturally  from  the  constitution  of  the 
Roman  government  and  from  the  spirit  of  the  Homan 
people ;  and,  though  at  length  subjected  to  metrical  rules 
derived  from  Greece,  retained  to  the  last  an  essentially 
Roman  character.    Lucilius  was  the  earliest  satirist  whose 
works  were  held  in  esteem  under  the  Caesars.     But  many 
years  before  Lucilius  was  born  Naevius  had  been  flung  into 
a   dungeon,    and   guarded   there   with    circumstances   of 
unusual  rigour,  on  account  of  the  bitter  lines  in  which  he 
had  attacked  the  great  Csecilian  family.*    The  genius  and 
spirit  of  the  Roman  satirist  survived  the  liberty  of  their 
country,  and  were  not  extinguished  b/  the  cruel  despotism 
of  the  Julian  and  Flavian  Emperors.    The  great  poet  who 
told  the  story  of  Domitian's  turbot,  was  the  legitimate 
successor  of  those  forgotten  minstrels  whose  songs  ani- 
mated the  factions  of  the  infant  Republic 

These  minstrels,  as  Niebuhr  has  remarked,  appear  to 
have  generally  taken  the  popular  side.  We  can  hardly  be 
mistaken  in  supposing  that,  at  the  great  crisis  of  the  civil 
conflict,  they  employed  themselves  in  versifying  all  the 
most  powerful  and  virulent  speeches  of  the  Tribunes,  and 

*  Plautus,  Miles  Gloriosus.    Aulus  Gellius,  iii.  3. 


» 


wM.vtmmt*!**"* 


98 


LATS  OP  ANCIENT  ROME. 


in  heaping  abuse  on  the  leader,  of  the  aristoen,ey.  Every 
pergonal  defect,  every  domestic  scandal  eyerv  tr,dil^ 
dishonourable  to  a  noble  house,  would  b  Lilt  'uT 
brought  into  notice,  and  exaggerated  Th.  n?  !  ' 
head  0,  eh«  aristocratica.  part;'M:::l  ^1^^ 
might  perha^  be,  in  some  measure,  protected  by  Wen 

btate.    But  Appms  Claudius  Crassus  enjoyed  no  s„.h 
unmun.ty    He  was  descended  from  a  long  1  n   of  arcestrs 
d.stmgu.shed  by  their  haughty  dcme^uTour,  and  by  « o 
ruflex.M,   „i,h  which  they  had  withstood  ali  the  dema 
of  the  Plebeian  order.  While  the  political  conduct  and  the 
deportment  of  the  Claudian  nobles  drew  upon  them    h 
fiercest  public  hatred,  they  were  accused  of  wanting,  if  any 
credit  .s  due  to  the  early  history  of  Bome,  a  c  ass  of 
qualities  which,  in  the  military  Commonweal,  isTuffi. 
cien   to  cover  a  multitude  of  offences.     The  chiefe  of  the 
family  appear  to  have  been  eloquent,  versed  in  civil  busi- 
ness, and  lear„6d  after  the  fashion  of  their  age ;  but  in  war 
they  were  not  distinguished  by  skill  or  valour.     Some  of 
them,  as  if  conscious  where  their  weakness  lay,  had,  when 
filling  the  highest  magistracies,  taken  internaradminbtr!! 
tion  as  their  department  of  public  business,  and  lefl  the 
military  command  to  their  coUeagues.*    One  of  them  had 
been   entrusted  with  an  army,  and  had  failed  ignomi- 

t"rhr^;^  /"M  *'"^'"  ""'^  ^''^  >— «<•   with  a 
t  lumph.   None  of  them  had  achieved  any  n.artial  exploit, 
su  h  as  those  by  which  Lucius  Quinctius  Cincinnatus 
litus  Quinctius   CapitoHnus,   Aldus  Cornelius   Cossus 
and,   above   all,   the  great   CuniUus,   had   extorted   the 

•  In  the  years  of  the  city  260,  304,  and  330. 
t  in  the  year  of  the  city  282. 


reluctant  esteem  of  the  multitude.  During  the  Lici- 
nian  conflict,  Appius  Claudius  Crassus  signalized  himself 
by  the  ability  and  severity  with  which  he  haran-ued 
against  the  two  great  agitators.  He  would  naturllly 
therefore,  be  the  favourite  mark  of  the  Plebeian  satirists  • 
nor  would  they  have  been  at  a  loss  to  find  a  point  on  whicli 
he  was  open  to  attack. 

His  grandfather,  called,  like  himself,  Appius  Claudius 
had  left  a  name  as  much  detested  as  that  of  Sextus  Tar' 
quinius.     This  elder  Appius  had  been  Consul  more  than 
seventy  years  before  the  introduction  of  the  Licinian  laws 
By  availing  himself  of  a  singular  crisis  in  public  feeling  ho 
had  obtained  the  consent  of  the  Commons  to  the  abolition 
of  the  Tribuneship,  and  had  been  the  chief  of  that  Council 
of  Ten  to  which  the  whole  direction  of  the  State  had  been 
committed.   In  a  few  months  his  administration  had  become 
universally  odious.    It  had  been  swept  away  by  an  irresist- 
ible outbreak  of  popular  fury;  and  its  memory  was  still 
held  m  abhorrence  by  the  whole  city.     The  immediate 
cause  of  the  downfall  of  this  execrable  government  was  said 
to  have  been  an  attempt  made  by  Appius  Claudius  upon 
the  chastity  of  a  beautiful  young  giri  of  humble  birth 
The  story  ran  that  the  Decemvir,  unable  to  succeed  by 
bribes  and  solicitations,  resorted  to  an  outrageous  act  of 
tyranny.     A  vile  dependent  of  the  Claudian  house  laid 
claim  to  the  damsel  as  his  slave.     The  cause  was  brou-ht 
before  the  tribunal  of  Appius.     The  wicked  magistrate^in 
defiance  of  the  clearest  proofs,  gave  judgment  for  the  claim- 
ant.    But  the  giri's  father,  a  brave  soldier,  saved  her  from 
servitude  and  dishonour  by  stabbing-her  to  the  heart  in  the 
sight  of  the  whole  Forum.     That  blow  was  the  signal  for 
a  general  explosion.    Camp  and  city  rose  at  once ;  the  Ten 

G 


100 


LAra  OF  AmiEIfT  ROME. 


2"  pxllod  down;  tho  TribanoHhip  w««  ro-ctablirficd ; 
«ad  App,uH  o™,.pod  tho  hu„d«  of  the  oxooutioucr  only  ),y 

«daptcd  to  tl.o  purposes  b,.th  of  the  p„„t  ,.„d  of  tlio  doni 
Roguo  woud  bo  o„^«rly  »ou«d  upon  by  mi„„trels  burning 
with  Imtrod  „g„.„„t  tho  Putrioiau  order,  ..,.,i„st  tho  Clua 
dmn  houso    and   o.p«oiully   „g„inst   the  grandson   and 
uamos,.ko  of  tho  infamous  Decomvir. 

In  order  that  tho  reader  may  judge  fairly  of  these 
fragments  of  the  lay  of  Virginia,  he  n.nst  imagine  himself 
«  Pkbonm   who   ha,  j„.t  voted  for  the  re-eloeti„n  of 
Soxtms  and  l.icuuus.     AH  the  power  of  the  Patrieians 
has  been  exerted  to  throw  out  the  two  great  champions 
of  tho  Commons      Evory   Posthumius,   ^milius,   and 
Cornohus  has  used  his  influenee  to  the  utn.ost.    Debtors 
have  been  let  out  of  tho  workhouses  on  condition  of 
votmg  against  tho  men  of  tho  people:  clients  have  boon 
posted  to  luss  and  interrupt  the  favourite  candidates- 
Appius  Claudius  Crassus  has  spoken  with  more  than  his 
usual  eloquence  and  asperity :  all  has  been  in  vain :  Lici 
nms  and  Soxtius  have  a  fifth  time  carried  all  the  tribes- 
work  IS  suspended .-  tho  booths  are  closed :  the  Plebeians 

through  the  Forum.  Just  at  this  moment  it  is  announced 
that  a  popular  poet,  a  zealous  adherent  of  the  Tribunes 
has  m,.do  a  new  song  which  will  cut  the  Claudian  nobles  ' 
to  the  heart.     The  crowd  gathers  round  him,  and  calls 
-m  h.m  ,„  recite  it.     He  takes  his  stand  on  the  sp 

v^r'al"  »     "  "  Tf """'  '*'''•«'"''''  -»-  'han  seventy 


VIRGINIA. 


IN  THa  YJBAIl  OF  THM  CITY  OOOLXXXII.  ^^ 


Yk  good  men  of  the  Commons,  with  loving  hearts  and  in.. 
Who  stand  b,  the  hold  Tribunes  that  stinwl     1^  ^ 
Come,  make  a  circle  round  me,  and  mark  my  tale  witfcaT 
A  Ule  of  what  Rome  once  hath  borne  of  wh« .  i,  ' 

T.ia  IS  „„  0.e,a„  rab.e,  of  roulZM^'  :r  '"  ■""'  ^'"• 
Of  maid,  with  snaky  ..ss«,  „.  sailors  .„  J  ;;„ 
Here,  ,„  thi,  „r.v  P„™m,  under  .he  noonday  s„„ 

Old 'f '  "!•« '  ""■ '"'"""'  *"'  "'""^^  "-0  --  "one. 
0  d  men  ,  ,11  creep  among  us  who  saw  that  fearful  day, 

J»-«  seventy  years  and  seven  ago,  when  .he  wiclced  T^'  ha„  sway 

And  of  all  .he  wcked  Ten  Appius  Claudius  was  U,e  wore. 
Ho  aUlked  along  .he  Forun,  like  King  Tar,uin  in  h  sTrd,- 

The  .:r"  "f "" """'  ''^  "■"""-«  ^ "  ^'^' :    ■ 

H.'^^^  rnZtT '"  7'' ""'  "="-  "-^  '^'^  -'^"™  -""  f- 
sowermgb,ow,h.seurhngm„u,h,which  always  seemedtosneer- 


102 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


That  brow  of  hate,  that  mouth  of  scorn,  marks  all  the  kindred  still  • 
For  never  was  there  Claudius  yet  but  wished  the  Commons  ill  •     ' 
Nor  lacks  he  fit  attendance  ;  for  close  behind  his  heels 
With  outstretched  chin  and  crouching  race,  the  client  Marcus  steals 
H.S  loins  g,rt  up  to  run  with  speed,  be  the  errand  what  it  may 
And  the  smile  flickering  on  his  cheek,  for  aught  his  lord  may  say 
Such  varlets  pimp  and  jest  fo.  hire  among  the  lying  Greek.  : 
Such  varlets  still  are  paid  to  hoot  when  brave  Licinius  speaks. 
Where  er  ye  shed  the  honey,  the  buzzing  flies  will  crowd  • 
Where'er  ye  fling  the  carrion,  the  raven's  croak  is  loud  •  ' 
Where'er  down  Tiber  garbage  floats,  the  greedy  pike  ye  see  : 
And  wheresoe'er  such  lord  is  found,  such  client  still  will  be. 

Just  then  as  through  one  cloudless  chink  in  a  black  stormy  sky. 
Shh,es  out  the  dewy  morning-star,  a  fair  young  girl  came  by        ' 
With  her  small  tablets  in  her  hand,  and  her  satchel  on  her  arm 
Home  she  went  bounding  from  the  school,  nor  dreamed  of  shame  or 
harm ; 

And  past  th«se  dreaded  axes  she  innocently  ran. 
With  bright,  frank  brow  that  had  not  learned  lo  blush  at  gaze  of 
man; 

And  up  the  Sacred  Street  she  turned,  and,  as  she  danced  along, 
She  warbled  gaily  to  herself  lines  of  the  good  old  song 
How  for  a  sport  the  princes  came  spurring  from  the  camp 
And  found  Lucrece,  combing  the  fleece,  under  the  midnight  lamp. 
The  maiden  sang  as  sings  the  lark,  when  up  he  darts  his  flight 
From  his  nest  in  the  green  April  corn,  to  meet  the  morning  light- 
And  Appius  heard  her  sweet  young  voice,  and  saw  her  sweet  young 
rftC6| 

And  loTed  her  with  the  accursed  love  of  his  accursed  race 

And  all  .long  the  Forum,  and  up  the  Sacred  Street, 

His  vulture  eye  pursued  Ihe  trip  of  those  small  glancing  feet 


) 


) 


yiROINIA. 


103 


Orer  th»  Alb«n  moa„t.l„,  ,ho  light  of  morning  broke  • 

Th«  cily-gates  were  opened ;  the  Porum  all  «li„ 
W,th  buyer.  .„d  With  .cUcr,  wa,  h„n.n,ing  like  \  hire : 

And  b.,the,y  young  Virginia  ean,e  filing  f„„  t,,  ,/„„^' 
Ah .  woe  for  young  Virginia,  the  sweetest  n,aid  in  Ro„,e  I 
Wuh  her  .„all  Ublet,  in  her  hand,  and  her  .atchel  „n  her  am, 
Forth  she  went  bounding  to  the  school  n„.  a  T  ' 

harm.  dreamed  of  shame  or 

She  erossed  the  Porum  shining  w,.„  stalls  in  alley,  g„. 
And  ,„st  had  cached  the  very  spot  whereon  I  stand  tul  dav 
When  up  the  varlet  Mareus  came ;  not  such  as  when  til 

And  str^le  across  Virginia's  path,  and  caught  her  by  .he  wri.t 
Hard  strove '.he  frighted  m»iH»„  .  j  '■''"  oy  the  wrist. 


104 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME, 


She  is  my  slave,  born  in  my  house,  and  stolen  away  and  sold, 
The  year  of  the  sore  sickness,  ere  she  was  twelve  hours  old. 
'Twas  in  the  sad  September,  the  month  of  wail  and  fright, 
Two  augurs  were  borne  forth  that  morn ;   ihe  Consul  died  ere 

night. 
I  wait  on  Appius  Claudius,  I  waited  on  his  sire  ; 
Let  him  who  works  v.he  client  wrong  beware  the  patron's  ire  I ' 

So  spake  the  varlet  Marcus;  and  droad  and  silence  came 
On  all  the  people  at  the  sound  of  the  great  Claudian  name. 
For  then  there  was  no  Tribune  to  speak  the  word  of  might, 
Which  makes  the  rich  man  tremble,  and  guards  the  poor  man's 
right. 

There  was  no  brav*  Liclaius,  no  honest  Sextius  then ; 
But  all  the  city,  in  great  fear,  obeyed  the  wicked  Ten. 
Vet  ere  the  varlet  Marcus  again  might  seize  the  maid, 
Who  clung  tight  to  Muraena's  skirt,  and  sobbed  and  shrieked  for 

aid. 
Forth  through  the  throng  of  gazers  the  young  Icilius  pressed, 
And  staioped  his  foot,  and  rent  his  gown,  and  smote  upon  his  breast. 
And  sprang  upon  that  colnmn,  by  many  a  minstrel  sunjr. 
Whereon  three  mouldering  helmets,  three  resting  swords,  are 

hung. 

And  beckoned  to  the  people,  and  in  bold  voice  and  clear 
Poured  thick  and  fast  the  burning  words  which  tyranta  quale  to 
hear. 


I 


'Now,  by  your  children's  cradles,  now  ^y  your  fathers'  graves, 
Be  men  to-day,  Quirites,  or  be  for  ever  slaves  1 
For  this  did  Servius  give  us  laws?   For  this  -M  Lucrece  bleed? 
For  this  was  the  great  vengeance  wrought  on  Tarquiu's  evil  seed  ? 
For  this  did  those  false  sons  make  red  the  axes  of  their  sire  ? 
For  this  did  Scaevola's  right  hand  hiss  in  the  Tuscan  fire  ? 


VIRGINIA. 


105 


are 


Shall  the  vile  fox-earth  awe  the  race  that  stormed  the  lion's  den? 
Shall  we,  who  could  not  brook  one  lord,  crouch  to  the  wicked  Ten  ? 
Oh  for  that  ancient  spirit  which  curbed  the  Senate's  will  I 
Oh  for  the  tents  which  in  old  time  whitened  the  Sacred  Hill  I 
In  thoae  brave  days  our  fathers  stood  firmly  side  by  side ; 
They  faced  the  Marcian  fury ;  they  tamed  the  Fabian  pride : 
They  drove  the  fiercest  Quinctius  an  outcast  forth  from  Rome; 
They  sent  the  haughtiest  Claudius  with  shivered  fasces  home. 
But  what  their  care  bequeathed  us  our  madness  flung  away : 
All  the  ripe  fruit  of  threescore  years  was  blighted  in  a  day. 
Exult,  ye  proud  Patricians  1    The  hard-fought  fight  Is  o'er. 
We  strove  for  honours— 'twas  in  vain :  for  freedom — 'tis  nomorJ. 
No  orier  to  the  polling  summons  the  eager  throng  ; 
No  tribune  b'^eathes  the  word  of  might  that  guards  the  weak  from 

wrong. 
Our  very  hearts,  that  were  so  high,  sink  down  beneath  your  will. 
Riches,  and  lands,  and  power,  and  state — ^ye  have  them : — keep 

them  still. 
Still  keep  the  holy  filJets ;  still  keep  the  purple  gown. 
The  axe3,  and  the  curule  chair,  the  car,  and  laurel  crown : 
Still  press  us  for  your  cohorts,  and,  when  the  fight  is  done. 
Still  fill  your  garners  from  the  soil  which  our  good  swords  have 

won. 
Still,  like  a  spreading  ulcer,  which  leech-craft  may  not  cure, 
Let  your  foul  usance  eat  away  the  substance  of  the  poor. 
Still  let  your  haggard  debtors  bear  all  their  fathers  bore ; 
Still  let  your  dens  of  torment  be  noisome  as  of  yore ; 
No  fire  when  Tiber  freezes  ;  no  air  in  dog-star  heat ; 
And  store  of  rods  for  free-born  backs,  and  holes  for  free-born  feet. 
Heap  heavier  still  the  fetters ;  bar  closer  still  the  grate ; 
Patient  as  sheep  we  yield  us  up  unto  your  cruel  hate. 
But,  by  the  Shades  beneath  us,  and  by  the  gods  above. 
Add  not  unto  your  cruel  hate  your  yet  more  cruel  love ! 


lOQ 


LAVS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


flavo  ye  not  grace  (nl  ladies,  whoso  spotless  lineage  springs 
From  Consuls,  and  Fligh  Pontiffs,  and  ancient  Alban  kings  ? 
Ladies,  who  deign  not  on  our  paths  to  set  their  tender  feet, 
Who  from  their  cars  look  down  with  scorn  upon  the  wondering 
street, 

Who  in  Corinthian  mirrors  their  own  proud  smiles  behold, 
And  breathe  of  Capuan  odours,  and  shine  with  Spanish  gold? 
Then  leave  the  poor  Plebeian  his  single  tie  to  life— 
The  sweet,  swoet  love  of  datighter,  of  sister,  and  of  wife. 
The  gentle  speech,  the  balm  for  all  that  his  vexed  soul  endures, 
The  kiss,  in  which  he  half  forgets  even  such  a  yoke  as  yours. 
Still  lot  the  maiden's  beauty  swell  the  father's  breast  with  pride ; 
sun  let  the  bridegroom's  arms  infold  an  unpolluted  bride. 
Spare  us  the  inoxiuiible  wrong,  the  unutterable  shame, 
That  turns  the  coward's  heart  to  steel,  the  sluggard's  blood  to 
flame, 

Lest,  when  om-  latest  hope  is  fled,  ye  taste  of  our  despair, 
And  learn  by  proof,  in  some  wild  hour,  how  much  the  wretched 
dare.' 


•  •  •  •  • 

Straightway  Virginius  led  the  maid  a  little  space  aside. 
To  where  the  reeking  shambles  stood,  piled  up  with  horn  and  hide. 
Close  to  yon  low  dark  archway,  where,  in  a  crimson  flood. 
Leaps  down  to  the  great  sewer  the  gurgling  stream  of  blood. 
Hard  by,  a  fleshcr  on  a  block  had  laid  his  wliittle  down  ; 
Virginius  caught  the  whittle  up,  and  hid  it  in  his  gown. 
And  then  his  eyes  grew  very  dim,  and  his  throat  began  to  swell. 
And  in  a  hoarse,  changed  voice  he  spake,  'Farewell,  sweet  child! 
Farewell! 

Oh !  how  I  loved  my  darling  !    Though  stern  I  sometimes  be, 
To  thee,  thou  know'st  I  was  not  so.    Who  could  be  so  to  thee  ? 


VJRQINIA. 


107 


And  how  my  darling  loved  me  1    How  glad  she  was  to  hear 
My  footetep  on  the  threshold  when  I  came  back  last  year  I 
And  how  she  danced  with  pleasure  to  see  my  civic  crown 
And  took  my  sword,  and  hung  it  up,  and  brought  me  forth  my 
gown  I 

Now,  all  those  things  are  over— yes,  all  thy  pretty  ways, 
Thy  needlework,  thy  prattle,  thy  snatches  of  old  lays; 
And  none  will  grieve  when  I  go  forth,  or  smile  when  I  return, 
Or  watch  beside  the  old  man's  bed,  or  weep  upon  his  urn. 
The  house  that  was  the  happiest  within  the  Roman  walls, 
The  house  that  envied  not  the  wealth  of  Capua's  marble  halls, 
"Soyr,  for  the  brightness  of  thy  smile,  must  have  eternal  gloom, 
And  for  the  music  of  thy  voice,  the  silence  of  the  tomb. 
The  time  is  come.    See  how  he  points  his  eager  hand  this  way  I 
See  how  his  eyes  gloat  on  thy  grief,  like  a  kite's  upon  the  prey  1 
With  all  his  wit,  he  little  deems,  that,  spurned,  betrayed,  bereft, 
Tliy  father  hath  in  his  despair  one  fearflil  refuge  left. 
He  little  deems  that  in  this  hand  I  clutch  what  still  can  save 
Thy  gentle  youth  from  taunts  and  blows,  the  portion  of  the  slave- 
Yea,  and  from  nameless  evil,  that  passeth  taunt  and  blow- 
Foul  outrage  which  thou  knowest  not,  which  thou  shalt  never 
know. 

Then  clasp  me  round  the  neck  once  more,  and  give  me  one  more 
kiss ; 

And  now,  mine  own  dear  little  girl,  there  is  no  way  but  this.' 
With  that  he  lifted  high  the  stool,  and  smote  her  in  the  side. 
And  in  her  blood  she  sank  to  earth,  and  with  one  sob  she  died. 

Then,  for  a  little  moment,  all  people  held  their  breath  ; 
And  through  the  crowded  Forum  was  stillness  as  of  death; 
And  in  another  moment  brake  forth  from  one  and  all 
A  cry  as  if  the  Volscians  were  coming  o'er  the  wall. 


108 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME, 


Some  with  averted  faces  shrieking  fled  home  amain ; 
Some  ran  to  call  a  leech  ;  and  some  ran  to  lift  the  slain : 
Some  felt  her  lips  and  little  wrist,  if  life  might  there  be  found ; 
And  some  tore  up  their  garments  fast,  and  strove  to  stanch  the 
wound. 

In  vain  they  ran,  and  felt,  and  stanched ;  for  never  truer  blow 
That  good  right  arm  had  dealt  in  fight  against  a  Volscian  foe. 

Who  1  Appius  Claudius  saw  that  deed,  he  shuddered  and  sank 
down, 

And  hid  his  face  some  little  space  with  the  corner  of  his  gown, 
TilL  with  white  lijjs  and  bloodshot  eyes,  Virginins  tottered  nigh. 
And  stood  before  the  judgment-seat,  and  held  tlie  knife  on  high. 
'  Oh ;  dwellers  in  the  nether  gloom,  avengers  of  the  slain, 
By  this  dear  blood  I  cry  to  you,  do  right  between  us  twain; 
And  even  as  Appius  Claudius  hath  dealt  by  me  and  mine. 
Deal  you  by  Appius  Claudius  and  all  the  Claudian  line  I '' 
So  spake  the  slayer  of  his  child,  and  turned,  and  went  his  way ; 
But  first  he  cast  one  haggard  glance  to  where  the  body  lay, 
And  writhed,  and  groaned  a  fearful  groau,  and  then,  with' stead- 
fast feet, 

Strode  right  across  the  market-place  unto  the  Sacred  Street. 

Then  up  sprang  Appius  Claudius  :  '  Stop  him ;  alive  or  dead  I 
Ton  thousand  pounds  of  copper  to  the  man  who  brings  his  head.' 
He  looked  upon  his  clients  ;  but  none  would  work  his  will. 
He  looked  upon  his  lictors  ;  but  they  trembled,  and  stood  still. 
And,  as  Virginius  through  the  press  his  way  in  silence  cleft. 
Ever  the  mighty  multitude  fell  back  to  right  and  left. 
And  he  hath  passed  in  safety  unto  his  woeful  home. 
And  there  ta'en  horse  to  tell  the  camp  what  deeds  are  done  in 
Rome. 


f 


VIRGINIA. 


109 


By  this  the  flood  of  people  was  swollen  from  every  side, 
And  streets  and  porches  round  were  filled  with  that  o'erflowing 
tide; 

And  close  around  the  body  gathered  a  little  train 

Of  them  that  were  the  nearest  and  dearest  to  the  slain. 

They  brought  a  bier,  and  hung  it  with  many  a  cypress  crown, 

And  gently  they  uplifted  her,  and  gently  laid  her  down. 

The  faceof  Appius  Claudius  wore  the  Claudian  scowl  and  sneer. 

And  in  the  Claudian  note  he  cried,  'What  doth  this  rabble  here ? 

Have  they  no  crafts  to  mind  at  home,  that  hitherward  they  stray  ? 

Hoi  lictors,  clear  the  market-place,  and  fetch  the  corpse  away! ' 

The  voice  of  grief  and  fury  till  then  had  not  been  loud  ; 

But  a  deep  sullen  murmur  wandered  among  the  crowd, 

Like  the  moaning  noise  that  goes  before  the  whirlwind  on  the  deep, 

Or  the  growl  of  a  fierce  watch-dog  but  half-aroused  from  sleep. 

But  when  the  lictors  at  that  word,  tall  yeomen  all  and  strong, 

Each  with  his  axe  and  sheaf  of  twigo,  went  down  into  the  throng. 

Those  old  men  say,  who  saw  that  day  of  sorrow  and  of  sin, 

That  in  the  Roman  Forum  was  never  such  a  din. 

The  wailing,  hooting,  cursing,  the  howls  of  grief  and  hate. 

Were  heard  beyond  the  Pincian  Hill,  beyond  the  Latin  Gate. 

But  close  around  the  body,  where  stood  the  little  train 

Of  them  that  were  the  nearest  and  dearest  to  the  slain, 

No  cries  were  there,  but  teeth  set  fast,  low  whispers  and  black 
frowiis. 

And  breaking  up  of  benches,  and  girding  up  of  gowns. 

'Twas  well  the  lictors  might  not  pierce  to  where  the  maiden  lay. 

Else  surely  had  they  been  all  twelve  torn  limb  from  limb  tliatday. 

Right  glad  they  were  to  struggle  back,  blood  streaming  from  their 
heads. 

With  axes  all  in  splinters,  and  raiment  ali  in  shreds. 

Then  Appius  Claudius  gnawed  his  lip,  and  the  blood  left  his  cheek ; 

And  thrice  he  beckoned  with  his  hand,  and  thrice  he  strove  to  speak  ; 


110 


LAVS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


And  thrice  the  tossing  Forum  set  up  a  frightful  yell  • 
'See,  see,  thou  dog!  what  thou  hast  done;  and  hide  thy  shame 
m  hell  I 

•  Thou  that  wouldst  »»ke  our  maidens  slaves  must  fi™t  make  slaves 
of  men. 

Tribunes !  Hurrah  for  Tribunes  1  Down  with  the  wicked  Ten  I ' 
And  straightway,  thick  as  hailstones,  came  whizzing  through 
the  air 

Pebbles,  and  cricks,  and  potsherds,  all  round  the  curale  chair : 
And  upon  Appius  Claudius  great  fear  and  trembling  came: 
For  never  was  a  Claudius  yet  brave  against  aught  but  shame. 
Though  the  great  houses  love  us  not,  we  own,  to  do  them  right, 
That  the  great  houses,  all  save  one,  have  borne  them  well  in  fight. 
St.ll  Cams  of  Ooripli,  his  triumphs  and  his  wrongs. 
His  vengeance  and  his  mercy,  live  in  our  camp-fire'songs 
Beneath  the  yoke  of  Furius  oft  have  Gaul  and  Tuscan  bowed  • 
And  Rome  may  bear  the  pride  of  him  of  whom  herself  is  proud 
But  evermore  a  Claudius  shrinks  from  a  stricken  field, 
And  changes  colour  like  a  maid  at  sight  of  sword  and  shield 
The  Claudian  triumphs  all  were  won  within  the  city  towers  ; 
The  Claudian  yoke  was  never  pressed  on  any  necks  but  ours.' 
A  Cossus,  like  a  wild  cat,  springs  ever  at  the  face; 
A  Fabius  rushes  like  a  boar  against  the  shouting  chase  • 
But  the  vile  Claudian  litter,  raging  with  currish  spite    ' 
Still  yelps  and  snaps  at  those  who  run,  still  runs  from  those  who     ' 
smite. 

So  now  'twas  seen  of  Appius.    When  stones  began  to  fly 
He  shook,  and  crouched,  and  wrung  his  hands,  and  sm'ote  upon 
his  thigh. 

'Kind  clients,  honest  lictors,  stand  by  me  in  this  fray  I 
Must  I  be  torn  in  pieces  ?    Home,  home,  the  nearest  way  1 ' 
Whde  yet  he  spake,  and  looked  around  with  a  bewildered  stare 
Four  sturdy  lictors  put  their  necks  beneath  thP  onmio  «»,.;> .     ' 


VIRGINIA. 


Ill 


shame 

» slaves 

il' 
irough 

ir: 

e. 

fight. 


d. 


who 


And  fourscore  clients  on  the  left,  and  fourscore  on  the  right 
Arrayed  themselves  with  swords  and  staves,  and  loins  girt  up  for 
fight..  V 

But,  though  without  or  staiOf  or  sword,  so  furious  was  the  throng 
That  scarce  the  train  with  might  and  main  could  bring  their  lord 
along. 

Twelve  times  the  crowd  made  at  him;  five  times  they  seized  his 
gown ; 

Small  chance  was  hi,  ,„  rise  again,  if  once  they  got  him  down  : 
And  sharper  came  the  pelting ;  and  eyetmore  the  yell- 
'  Tnbunes  I  we  will  have  Tribunes !  '-rose  with  a  louder  swell : 
And  the  chair  tossed  as  tosses  a  bark  with  tattered  sail 
When  raves  the  Adriatic  benea.h  an  eastern  gale 
When  the  Oalabrian  sea-marks  are  lost  in  clouds  of  spume 
And  the  Kreat  Thunder-Cape  has  donned  his  veil  of  inky  gloom 
One  stone  hit  Appius  in  the  mouth,  and  one  beneath  the  ear  •      ' 
And  ere  he  reached  Mount  Palatine,  he  swooned  with  pain  and  fear. 
H.S  cursed  head,  that  he  was  wont  to  hold  so  high  wi.h  pride. 
Now,  hke  a  drunken  man's,  hung  down,  and  swayed  from  side  to 
side; 

And  when  his  stout  retainers  had  brought  him  to  hh  door, 
His  face  and  neck  were  all  one  cake  of  filth  and  clotted  gore 
As  Appius  Claudius  was  that  day,  so  may  his  grandson  be  1 
God  send  Rome  one  such  other  sight,  and  send  me  there  to  seel 


ipon 


\^mim 


"WMf!** 


THE  PEOPHECY  OF  CAPTS. 


It  can  hardly  be  necessary  to  remind  any  reader  that 
according  to  the  popular  tradition,  Romulus,  after  he  had 
slain  his  grand-uncle  Amulius,  and  restored  his  grand- 
father Numitor,  determined  to  quit  Alba,  the  hereditary 
domain  of  the  Sylvian  princes,  and  to  found  a  new  city. 
The  gods,  it  was  added,  vouchsafed  the  clearest  signs  of 
the  favour  with  which  they  regarded  the  enterprise,  and  of 
the  high  destinies  reserved  for  the  young  colony. 

This  event  was  likely  to  be  a  favourite  theme  of  the 
old  Latin  minstrels.  They  would  naturally  attribute  the 
project  of  Romulus  to  some  divine  intimation  of  the 
power  and  prosperity  which  it  was  decreed  that  his  city 
should  attain.  They  would  probably  introduce  seers 
foretelling  the  victories  of  unborn  Consuls  and  Dictators, 
and  the  last  great  victory  would  generally  occupy  the 
most  conspicuous  place  in  the  prediction.  There  is 
nothing  strange  in  the  supposition  that  the  poet  who  was 
employed  to  celebrate  the  first  great  triumph  of  the 
Romans  over  the  Greeks  might  throw  his  song  of  exulta- 
tion into  this  form. 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPrS.  113 

The  occasion  was  one  likely  to  excite   the  strongest 
feelings   of  national  pride.     A  great  outrage  had  been 
followed  by  a  great  retribution.     Seven  years  before  this 
time,  Lucius  Posthumius  Megellus,  who  sprang  from  one 
of  the  noblest    houses  of   Rome,    and  had  been  thrice 
Consul,  was  sent  ambassador  to  Tarentum,  with  charge  to 
demand  reparation  for  grievous  injuries.     The  Tarentines 
gave  him  audience  in  their  theatre,  where  he  addressed 
them  in  such  Greek  as  he  could  command,  which,  we  may 
well  believe,  was  not  exactly  such  as  Cineas  would  have 
spoken.     An  exquisite  sense  of  the  ridiculous  belonged 
to  the  Greek  character ;  and  closely  connected  with  this 
faculty  was  a  strong  propensity  to  flippancy  and  imper- 
tinence.    When  Posthumius  placed  an  accent  wrong,  his 
hearers  burst  into  a  laugh.     When  he  remonstrated,''thcy 
hooted  him,  and  called  him  barbarian ;    and   at   lenc^th 
hissed  him  off  the  stage  as  if  he  had  been  a  bad  actw 
As  the  grave  Roman  retired,   a  buffoon  who,  from  his 
constant  drunkenness,  was  nicknamed  the  Pint-pot,  came 
up  with  gestures  of  the  grossest  indecency,  and  bespattered 
the  senatorial  gown  with  filth.     Posthumius  turned  round 
to  the  multitude,  and  held  up  the  gown,  as  if  appealin-  to 
the  universal  law  of  nations.     The  sight  only  increased 
the   insolence   of  the   Tarentines.     They   clapped    their 
hands,  and  set  up  a  shout  of  laughter  which  shook  the 
theatre.     '  Men  of  Tarentum,'  said  Posthumius,    Mt  will 
take  not  a  little  blood  to  wash  this  gown.'* 

Rome,  in  consequence  of  this  insult,  declared  war  against 
the  Tarentines.  The  Tarentines  sought  for  allies  beyond 
the  Ionian  Sea.     Pyrrhus,  king  of  Epirus,  came  to  their 

^    *  Dion.  Hal.  De  Lpgationibus. 


•  i 


114 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 


I 


help  with  a  lar^e  army;  and,  for  the  first  time,  the  two 
great  nations  of  antiquity  were  fairly  matched  against 
each  other. 

The  fame  of  Greece  in  arms,  as  well  as  in  arts,  was  then 
at  the  height.     Half  a  century  earlier,  the  career  of  Alex- 
ander had  excited  the  admiration  and  terror  of  all  nations 
from  the  Ganges  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules.  Royal  houses, 
founded  by  Macedonian  Ciiptains,  still  reigned  at  Antioch 
and  Alexandria.  That  barbarian  warriors,  led  by  barbarian 
chiefs,  should  win  a  pitched  battle  against  Greek  valour 
guided  by  Greek  science,  seemed  as  incredible  as  it  would 
now  seem  that  the  Burmese  or  the  Siamese  should,  in  the 
open  plain,  put  to  flight  an  equal  number  of  the  best  Eng- 
lish troops.     The   Tarentines  were  convinced  that  their 
countrymen  were  irresistible  in  war ;  and  this  conviction 
had  emboldened  them  to  treat  with  the  grossest  indignity 
one  whom  they  regarded  as  the  representacive  of  an  infe- 
rior race.     Of  the  Greek  generals  then  living,  Pyrrhus 
was  indisputably  the  first.     Among  the  troops  who  were 
trained  in  the  Greek  discipline,  his  Epirotes  ranked  high. 
His  expedition  to  Italy  was  a  turning-point  in  the  history 
of  the  world.     He  found  there  a  people  who,  far  inferior 
to  the  Athenians  and  Corinthians  in  the  fine  arts,  in  the 
speculative  sciences,  and  in  all  the  refinements  of  life,  were 
the  best  soldiers  on  the  face  of  the  earth.     Their  arms, 
their  gradations  of  rank,  their  order  of  battle,  their  method 
of  intrenchment,  were  all  of  Latian  origin,  and  had  all 
been  gradually  brought  near  to  perfection,  not  by  the  study 
of  foreign  models,  but  by  the  genius  and  experience  of 
many  generations  of  great  native  commanders.     The  first 
words  which  broke  from  the  king,  when  his  practised  eye 
.-J —  ^..^  A».uiixau  vixvjttiupjjucnuj  Wuiu  luii  \}i  Uieati- 


ti 


! 


two 


) 


TBE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPTS.  .      US 

it?hr  't""""  '  '"  "'''  ''"'™  -'•'"■g  barb, 
roua  m  their  military  arrangements.'     Ho  wa»  «f  «    , 

victorious ;  for  his  own  talents  were  supe  L  ^  11  \ 
the  eaptains  who  were  opposed  to  him-  „Td  2  R 
were  not  prepared  for  th^  onset  of  Z  iZ^^:: 
East,  which  were  then  for  the  first  time  seen  in  Italy 
^oving  mountains,  with  long  snakes  for  hands.*    But  t^ 
victories  of  the  Epirotes  were  fiercely  disnuted    ^    . 
purcha^d,  and  altogether  unprofitable  ^AtZI^MS 
Curins  Dentatus,  who  had  in  his  first  ConsuIsMp  won  two 
triumphs,  was  again  placed  at  the  head  of  the  Tomln 
Commonwealth,  and  sent  to  encounter  the  invaded     A 
great  battle  waa  fought  near  Beneventum.    P™^  JL 
completely  defeated.    He  repassed  the  sea;  and  the  woZ 
learned,  with  amazement,  that  a  people  had  beln^^ 
covered  who  in  fair  fighting,  were  su'perior  t„    he  ^ 
troops  that  had  been  drilled  on  the  system  n/p  • 

and  Antigonus.  ^     ""  "^  ^a^emo 

ce^  foTtr""?  '"^  "  ^'^  "^'•'  'o  '=^»"  '"  Ae-  -0- 
cess,  for  their  glory  was  aW  their  own      Tl,o„  i,  j       . 

Earned  from  their  enemy  how  to  conTuer 'hi  '  Z 
With  their  own  nat  onal  arms   and  in  \.'  • 

battWay  .hat  they  had  ^^^  ^LTn/tt 
long  beheyed  to  be  inyineible.  The  pilum  and7h«  T  f 
™„rd  had  yanquished  the  Macedonia^s^a;  ThlS; 
had  broken  the  Macedonian  phalanz.    Eyen  helltlr 

^::  lT!r  ^^'r?^  ""'■^  «'«'  appearance"^ 
ii^fl':S;:iZ^'  °"'  '"'" ^•""'"  "" -  -lephant.    Lucre- 


116 


LAYS  OF  AHOIENT  ROME. 


m\ 


Lrhe  Sit: 


It  is  said  by  Floras  and  may  easily  be  believed,  that  the 
triumph  far  surpas.sed  in  magnificence  any  that  Rome  had 
previously  seen.     The  only  F^oils  which  Papirius  Cursor 
and  Fabius  Maximus  could  exhibit  were  flocks  and  herds, 
waggons  of  rude  structure,  and  heaps  of  spears  and  helmets. 
But  now,  for  the  first  time,  the  riches  of  Asia  and  the  arts 
of  Greece  adorned  a  Roman  pageant.     Plate,  fine  staffs, 
costly  furniture,  rare   animals,   exquisite   pnntinjrs  aud 
sculptures,  formed  part  of  the  procession.     At  the  I  anquet 
would  be  assembled  a  crowd  of  warrior"    md  statesmen, 
among  whom  Manius  Curius  Dentatus  would  take  the 
highest  room.     Caius  Fubricius  Luscinus,  then,  after  two 
Consulships  and  two  triumphs,  Censor  of  the  Common- 
wealth, would  doubtless  occupy  a  place  of  honour  at  the 
board.     In  situations  less  conspicuous  probably  lay  some 
of  those  who  were,  a  few  years  later,  the  terror  of  Carthage ; 
Caius  Duilius,  the  founder  of  the  maritime  greatness  of  his 
country ;  Marcus  Atilius  Regulus,  who  owed  to  defeat  a 
renown  far  higher  than  that  which  he  had  derived  from  his 
victories ;  and  Caius  Lutatius  Catulus,  who,  while  suffer- 
ing from  a  grievous  wound,  fought  the  great  battle  of  the 
JEgates,  and  brought  the  first  Punic  war  to  a  triumphant 
close.     It  is  impossible  to  recount  the  names  of  these 
eminent  citizens,   without  reflecting  that  they  were  all, 
without  exception.  Plebeians,  and  would,  but  for  the  ever- 
memorable  struggle  mamtivinec'   by  Caius  Liciuius  and 
Lucius  Sextius,  have  b^fi;  ^>. 'un.  ;d  to  hide  in  obscurity,  or 
to  waste  in  civil  broils,  the  capacity  and  energy  which 
prevailed  against  Pyrrhus  and  Hamiloar. 

On  such  a  day  we  may  suppose  that  the  patriotic  enthu- 
siasm of  a  Latin  poet  would  vent  itself  in  reiterated  shouts 
of  lo  tnumphCf  such  as  were  uttered  by  Horace  on  a  far 


i 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPTS,  II7 

of«o»e  foreign  nations,  and  esp™ ial  of  tt  ZT"-" 
the  lazy  arte  of  peace,  would  be     iniTtcd  wTI  d'^f  •%"! 

;:  rti  s;'^~ '-  -"  ^h:  uii^wSt 

The  following  lay  belong,  to  the  latest  a«e  of  Latin 
ballad-poetry.  N»viua  and  LiviuB  Androniol  were  2 
^b  y  among  the  ehildren  whose  mothers  held  thrrupt 
2  he  chanot  of  Curias  go  by.     The  minstrel  who  1« 

he.ametet"'„rf  ^•'""'••'f  '"'-  "™<^  ^  -"  thl  S 

2r:-e,u!ir:':trt  '';::^^'  r  -  --i 

productions  of  remote  nations,  thr;:rdlXrC 
m  eompos.t.ons  of  the  age  of  Camillus.  But  he  troublca 
himself  httle  about  dates,  and  having  heard  travellerstk 
^Uh  admiration  of  the  Colossus  of  Rhodes,  aid  of  ^t 
s^uctures  and  gardens  with  which  the  Macedonkn  ki  !^ 
of  Syria  had  embellished  their  residence  on  the  banjff 
the  Orontes,  he  has  never  thought  of  inquiring  whether 
these  things  existed  in  the  age  of  Romulus. 


THE  PEOPHECT  OF  CAPYS. 

r 

X  LAY  SUNa  AT  THK  BANQUBT  m  THE  OAPITOI,,  ON  THE  DAY  WHEREON 
MANIUS  CURIUS  0BNTATU8,  A  SECOND  TIME  CONSUL,  TRIUMPHED 
OVER  KING  PYRRHUa  AND  THE  TARBNTINES,  IN  THE  YEAR  OF 
THE  CITY  CCCCLXXIX. 


« 


r\ 


I. 


Now  slain  is  King  Amulius, 
'  Of  the  great  Sylvian  line, 
Who  reigned  in  Alba  Longa, 

On  the  throne  of  Aventine. 
Slain  is  the  Pontiff  Gamers, 

Who  spake  the  words  of  doom : 
*  The  children  to  the  Tiber ; 

The  mother  to  the  tomb.' 


II. 

In  Alba's  lake  no  fisher 

His  net  to-day  is  flinging : 
On  the  dark  rind  of  Alba's  oaks 

To-day  no  axe  is  ringing  t 
The  yoke  hangs  o'er  the  manger : 

The  scythe  lies  in  the  hay : 
Through  all  the  Alban  villages 

No  work  is  done  to-day. 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPrs. 


119 


J 


BiREON 
IPHKD 
IR   OF 


Hi. 

And  every  Alban  burgher 

Hath  donned  his  whitest  gown  ; 
And  every  head  in  Alba 

Weareth  a  poplar  crown  ; 
And  every  Alban  door-post 

With  boughs  and  flowers  is  gayj  ^ 
For  to-day  the  dead  are  living  j 

The  lost  are  found  to-day. 

IV. 

They  were  doomed  by  a  bloody  king : 
They  were  doomed  by  a  lying  priest : 

They  were  cast  on  the  raging  flood : 
They  were  tracked  by  the  raging  beast 

Raging  beast  and  raging  flood 

Alike  have  spared  the  prey  ; 
And  to-day  the  dead  are  living: 
The  lost  are  found  to-day. 

V. 

The  troubled  river  knew  them, 

And  smoothed  his  yellow  foam, 
And  gently  rocked  the  cradle 

That  bore  the  fate  of  Rome. 
The  ravening  she-wolf  knew  them, 

And  licked  them  o'er  and  o'er 
And  gave  them  of  her  own  fierce  milk, 

Rich  with  raw  flesh  and  gore. 
Twenty  winters,  twenty  springs, 

Since  then  have  rolled  away  ; 
And  to-day  the  dead  are  livinir  • 

~o  - 


Thel 


r-* 


are  found  to-day. 


120 


ZAFS  OF  AZ'fClENT  ROM£, 


m 


VI. 

Blithe  it  vtm  to  see  tlie  twins, 

Right  goodlj  youths  and  tall, 
Marching  from  Alba  ltong% 

To  their  old  grandsire's  hall. 
Along  their  path  fresh  garlands 

Are  hung  from  tree  to  tree  : 
Before  them  stride  the  pipers, 

Piping  a  note  of  glee. 

VII. 
On  the  right  goes  Romulus, 

With  arms  to  the  elbows  red, 
Arid  in  his  hand  a  broadsword. 

And  on  the  blade  a  head— 
A  head  in  an  iron  helmet, 

With  horse-hair  hangmg  down, 
A  shaggy  head,  a  swarthy  head, 

Fixed  in  a  ghastly  frown— 
The  head  of  King  Amulius 

Of  the  great  Sylvian  line. 
Who  reigned  in  Alba  Longa, 

On  the  throne  of  Aventine. 

VIII. 
On  the  left  side  goes  Remus, 

With  wrists  and  fingers  red. 
And  in  his  hand  a  boar-spear. 

And  on  the  point  a  head — 
A  wrinkled  head  and  aged. 

With  silver  heartland  hair. 
And  holy  fillets  round  it, 

Such  as  the  pontifis  wear— 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPTS. 

The  head  of  ancient  Gamers, 
Who  spake  the  words  of  doom  : 

*  The  children  to  the  Tiber  j 
The  mother  to  the  tomb.' 

IX. 

Two  and  two  behind  the  twins 

Their  trusty  comrades  go, 
Pour  and  forty  valiant  men. 

With  club,  and  axe,  and  bow. 
On  each  side  every  hamlet 

Pours  forth  its  joyous  crowd, 
Shouting  lads  and  baying  dogs 
And  children  laughing  loud, 
And  old  men  weeping  fondly 

As  Rhea's  boy^  go  by 
And  maids  who  shriek  to  see  the  heads. 
Yet,  shrieking,  press  more  nigh. 

X. 

So  they  marched  along  the  lake  j 
They  marched  by  fold  and  stall, 

By  corn-field  and  by  vineyard. 
Unto  the  old  man's  hall. 

XI. 

In  the  hall-gate  sate  Oapys, 

Capys,  the  sightless  seer ; 
From  head  to  foot  he  trembled 

As  Romulus  drew  near. 
And  up  stood  stiflf  his  thin  white  hair. 

And  his  blind  eyes  flashed  fire  : 
'Hail I  foster  child  of  the  wonderous  nurse 

i^ail !  son  of  the  wonderous  sire  I 


121 


122 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 
XII. 

'But  thou— what  dost  thou  here 

In  the  old  man's  peaceful  hall? 
What  doth  the  eagle  in  the  coop, 

The  bison  in  the  stall? 
Our  corn  fills  many  a  garner  • 

Our  vines  clasp  many  a  tree  ; 
Our  flocks  are  white  on  many  a  hill  • 

But  these  are  not  for  thee. 

XIII. 
'  For  thee  no  treasure  ripens 

In  the  Tartessian  mine  : 
For  thee  no  ship  brings  precious  bales 

Across  the  Libyan  brine : 
Thou  Shalt  not  drink  from  amber; 

Thou  Shalt  not  rest  on  down  • 
Arabia  shall  not  steep  thy  locks,     * 

Nor  Sidon  tinge  thy  gown. 

XIV, 

'Leave  gold  and  myrrh  and  jewels, 

Rich  table  and  soft  bed. 
To  them  who  of  man's  seed  are  born, 

Whom  woman's  milk  have  fed. 
Thou  wast  not  made  for  lucre, 

For  pleasure,  nor  for  rest; 
Thou,  that  art  sprung  from  the  War-god's  loins, 

And  hast  tugged  at  the  she-wolf  s  breast. 


1 


TSE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPYS. 


123 


XV. 

*  From  sunrise  unto  sunset 

All  earth  shall  hear  thy  fanio : 
A  glorious  city  thou  shalt  build 

And  name  it  by  thy  name : 
And  there,  unquenched  through  ages, 

Like  Vesta's  sacred  fire, 
Shall  i:Te  the  spirit  of  thy  nurse, 

The  spirit  of  thy  sire. 

XVI. 

'  The  ox  toils  through  the  furrow 

Obedient  to  the  goad ; 
The  patient  ass,  up  flinty  paths, 

Plods  with  his  weary  load  : 
With  whine  and  bound  the  spaniel 

His  master's  whistle  hears ; 
And  the  sheep  yields  her  patiently 

To  the  loud  clashing  shears. 

XVII. 

'But  thy  nurse  will  hear  no  master; 

Thy  nurse  will  bear  no  load ; 
And  woe  to  them  that  shear  her. 

And  woe  to  them  that  goad  I 
When  all  the  pack,  loud  baying. 

Her  bloody  lair  surrounds,    ' 
She  dies  in  silence,  biting  hard,  . 

Amidst  the  dying  hounds. 


124 


LAY8  OF  ANCIENT  ROHB, 

xvirr. 

*  Pomona  lores  the  orchard  ; 

And  Liber  loves  the  vine ; 
And  Pales  loves  the  straw-built  shed 

Warm  with  the  breath  of  kine  j 
And  Venus  loves  the  whispers 

Of  plighted  youth  and  maid, 
In  April's  ivory  moonlight 

Beneath  the  chestnut  shade. 

XIX. 

*  But  thy  father  loves  the  clashing 

Of  broadsword  and  of  shield  : 
He  loves  to  drink  the  steam  that  reeks 

Prom  the  fresh  battle-field : 
He  smiles  a  smile  more  dreadful 
Than  his  own  dreadful  frown, 
When  he  sees  the  thick  black  cloud  of  smoke 
Go  up  from  the  conquered  town. 

XX. 

*  And  such  as  is  the  War  god, 

The  author  of  thy  line, 
And  such  as  she  who  suckled  thee, 

Even  such  be  thou  and  thine. 
Leave  to  the  soft  Campanian 

His  baths  and  his  perfumes  ; 
Leave  to  the  sordid  race  of  Tyre 
Their  dyeing-vats  and  looms : 
Leave  to  the  sons  of  Carthage 

The  rudder  and  the  oar: 
Leave  to  the  Greek  his  marble  Nymphs 
And  scrolls  of  wordy  lore. 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPY8. 

XXI. 
*  Thine,  Roman,  is  the  pilum  : 

Roman,  the  sword  is  thine, 
The  even  trench,  the  bristling  mound, 

The  legion's  ordered  line ; 
And  thine  the  wheels  of  triumph, 

Whioh  with  their  laurelled  train 
Move  slowly  up  the  shouting  streets 

To  Jove's  eternal  fane. 

XXII. 
'Beneath  thy  yoke  the  Volscian 

Shall  vail  his  lofty  brow : 
Soft  Capua's  curled  revellers 

Before  thy  chairs  shall  bow : 
The  Lucumoes  of  Arnus 

Shall  quake  thy  rods  to  see ; 
And  the  proud  Samnite's  heart  of  steel 

Shall  yield  to  only  thee. 

XXIII. 
*  The  Gaul  shall  come  against  thee 

Prom  the  land  of  snow  and  night : 
Thou  Shalt  give  his  fair-haired  armies 

To  the  raven  and  tho  kite. 

XXIV. 

*The  Greek  shall  come  against  thee, 

The  conqueror  of  the  East. 
Beside  him  stalks  to  battle 

The  huge  earth-shaking  beast, 
The  beast  on  whom  the  castle 

With  all  its  guards  doth  stand, 

Thfi  hpaof  iirlirv  t<<>4U  v~4— . »-•_    _      - 

— T»  .jfu-  u»t;u  wciWccii  ius  eyes 

The  serpent  for  a  hand. 


125 


1^6 


I^AFS  OF  ANOIENT  ROME, 

First  march  the  bold  Epirotes, 

Wedged  close  with  shield  and  spear; 
And  the  ranks  of  false  Tarentum 
.      Are  glittering  in  the  rear. 
XXV. 

'The  ranks  of  false  Tarentum 
Like  hunted  sheep  shall  fly : 
In  rain  the  bold  Epirotes 

Shall  round  their  standards  die : 
And  Apennine's  grej  vultures 

Shall  have  a  noble  feast 
On  the  fat  and  the  eyes 
Of  the  huge  earth-shaking  beast. 
XXVI. 

'Hurrah  I  for  the  good  weapons 

That  keep  the  War-god's  land. 
Hurrah  I  for  Rome's  stout  pilum 

In  a  stout  Roman  hand. 
Hurrah  I  for  Rome's  short  broadsword, 

That  through  the  thick  array 
Of  levelled  spears  and  serried  shield? 

Hews  deep  its  gory  way. 

XXVII. 

'  Hurrah !  for  the  great  triumph 

That  stretches  many  a  mile. 
Hurrah  I  for  the  wan  captives 

That  pass  in  endless  file. 
Ho  I  bold  Epirotes,  whither 

Hath  the  Red  King  t.Ven  flight? 
Ho  I  dogs  of  false  Tarentum, 
Is  not  the  gown  washed  white  ? 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPT8. 

XXVIII. 

'Hurrah!  for  the  great  triumph 

That  stretches  many  a  mile. 
Hurrah  I  for  the  rich  dye  of  Tyre, 

And  the  fine  web  of  Nile, 
The  helmets  gay  with  plumage 

Torn  from  the  pheasant's  wings, 
The  belts  set  thick  with  starry  gems 

That  shone  on  Indian  kings, 
The  urns  of  massy  silver. 

The  goblets  rough  with  gold, 
The  many-coloured  tablets  bright 

With  loves  and  wars  of  old. 
The  stone  that  breathes  and  struggles 
The  brass  thai  seems  to  speak  j—     - 
Such  cunning  they  who  dwell  on  high 
Have  given  unto  the  Greek. 


127 


XXIX. 

*  Hurrah  1  for  Manius  Curius, 

The  bravest  son  of  Rome, 
Thrice  in  utmost  need  sent  forth, 
Thrice  drawn  in  triumph  home. 
Weave,  weave,  for  Manius  Curius 

The  third  embroidered  gown : 
Make  ready  the  third  lofty  car. 

And  twine  the  third  green  crown ; 
And  yoke  the  steeds  of  Rosea 

With  necks  like  a  bended  bow. 
And  deck  the  bull,  Mevania's  bull, 
The  bull  as  white  as  snow. 


128 


LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROMS. 


XXX. 

'Blest  and  thrice  blest  the  Roman 
Who  sees  Rome's  brightest  day, 
Who  sees  that  long  victorious  pomp 

Wind  down  the  Sacred  Way, 
And  through  the  bellowing  Porum. 
And  round  the  Suppliant's  Grove, 
Up  to  the  everlasting  gatea 
Of  Oapitolian  Jove. 

XXXI. 

*  Then  where,  o'er  two  bright  havens, 

The  towers  of  Corinth  frown  j 
Where  the  gigantic  King  of  Day 

On  his  own  Rhodes  looks  down  ; 
Where  soft  Orontes  murmurs 
Beneath  the  laurel  shades ; 
Where  Nile  reflects  the  endless  length 

Of  dark-red  colonnades ; 
Where  in  the  still  deep  water. 

Sheltered  from  waves  and  blasts. 
Bristles  the  dusky  forest 

Of  Byrsa's  thousand  masts ; 
Where  fur-clad  hunters  wander 

Amidst  the  northern  ice  ; 
Where  through  the  sand  of  morning-land 

The  camel  bears  the  spice ; 
Where  Atlas  flings  his  shadow 

Far  o'er  the  western  foam, 
Shall  be  great  fear  on  all  who  hear 
The  mighty  name  of  Rome.' 


IVEY: 

A  SONG  OF  THE  HUGUE^OTS. 


Now  glory  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  from  whom  all  glories  are! 
And  glory  to  our  Sovereign  Liege,  King  Henry  of  Navarre! 
Now  let  there  be  the  merry  sound  of  music  and  of  dance, 
Through  thy  corn-fields  green,  and  sunny  vines,  oh  pleasant  land 
of  France  I 

And  thou,  Rochelle,  our  own  Rochelle,  proud  city  of  the  waters, 
Again  let  rapture  light  the  eyes  of  all  thy  mourning  daughters. 
As  thou  wert  constant  in  our  ills,  be  joyous  in  our  joy, 
For  cold,  and  stiff,  and  still  are  they  who  wrought  thy  walls  annoy. 
Hurrah!  Hurrah  1  a  single  field  hath  turned  the  chance  of  war, 
Hurrah  1  Hurrah!  for  Ivry,  and  Henry  of  Navarre. 

Oh!  how  our  hearts  were  beating,  when,  at  the  dawn  of  day. 
We  saw  the  army  of  the  League  drawn  out  in  long  array  j 
With  all  its  priest-led  citizens,  and  all  its  rebel  peers. 
And  Appenzel's  stout  infantry,  and  Egmont's  Flemish  spears. 
There  rode  the  brood  of  false  Lorraine,  the  curses  of  our  land ; 
And  dark  Mayenne  was  in  the  midst,  a  truncheon  in  his  hand  : 
And,  as  we  looked  on  them,  we  thought  of  Seine's  empurpled  flood 
And  good  Coligni's  hoary  hair  all  dabbled  with  his  blood : 


180 


irsr. 


And  we  cried  unto  the  living  God,  who  rules  the  fate  of  war 
To  hght  for  His  own  holy  name,  and  Henry  of  Navarre.        ' 

The  King  is  come  to  marshal  us,  in  all  his  armour  drest 
And  he  has  bound  a  snow-white  plume  upon  his  gallant' crest. 
He  looked  upon  his  people,  and  a  tear  was  in  his  eye  • 
Ho  looked  upon  the  traitors,  and  his  glance  was  stern'and  high 
R.«1U  graciously  he  smiled  on  us,  as  rolled  from  wing  to  wing 
Down  an  our  line  a  deafening  shout,  '  God  save  our  L 1  the  King ! ' 
And  ,f  my  standard-bearer  fall,  as  fall  full  well  he  may 
For  never  saw  I  promise  yet  of  such  a  bloody  fray         ' 
Press  wi,ere  ye  see  my  White  plume  shine,  amidst  theranksof  war 
And  be  your  oriflamme  to-day  the  helmet  of  Navarre.' 

Hurrah  I  the  foes  are  moving.    Hark  to  the  mingled  din 

Of  hfe,  and  steed,  and  trump,  and  drum,  and  roaring  culverin 

The  fiery  Duke  is  pricking  fast  across  Saint  Andre's  plain       * 

With  all  the  hireling  chivalry  of  Guelders  and  Almayne    ' 

Now  by  the  lips  of  those  ye  love,  fair  gentlemen  of  France 

Charge  for  the  golden  lilies,-upon  them  with  the  lance     ' 

A  thousand  spurs  are  striking  deep,  a  thousnnd  spears  in  rest 

A  thousand  knights  are  pressing  close  behind  the  snow-white  c'rest  • 

And  m   hey  burst,  and  on  they  rushed,  while,  like  a  guiding  star, ' 

Amidst  the  thickest  carnage  blazed  the  helmet  of  Navarre 

Now,  God  be  praised,  the  day  is  ours.  Mayenne  hath  turned  his  rein 
DAumale  hath  cried  for  quarter.    The  Flemish  count  is  slain 
Their  ranks  are  breaking  like  thin  clouds  before  a  Biscay  gale- 
The  field  is  heaped  with  bleeding  steeds,  and  flags,  and  cloven  mail 
And  then  we  thought  on  vengeance,  and,  all  along  our  van 
Remember  St.  Bartholomew,'  was  passed  from  man  to  man 
But  out  spake  gentle  Henry,  '  No  Frenchman  is  my  foe  • 
*Down,  down  with  every  foreigner,  but  let  your  brethren  go  ' 


A  SONG  OF  TBB  HUGUENOTS.  131 

Oh  I  was  there  ever  such  a  knight,  in  friendship  or  in  war, 
A3  our  Sovereign  Lord,  King  Henry,  the  soldier  of  Navarre? 

Right  well  fought  all  the  Frenchmen  who  fought  for  Franco  to-day 
And  many  a  lordly  banner  Qod  gave  them  for  a  prey. 
But  we  of  the  religion  have  borne  us  best  in  fight  • 
And  the  good  Lord  of  Rosny  has  ta'ea  the  cornet  white. 
Our  owu  true  Maximilian  the  cornet  white  hath  ta'en, 
Tlie  cornet  wliite  with  croaacs  black,  the  flag  of  false'Lorraine. 
Up  with  it  liigl, ;  unfurl  it  wide  ;  that  all  the  host  may  know 
flow  Qod  hath  huoihled  the  proud  house  which  wrought  His 
church  such  woe. 

Then  on  the  ground,  while  trumpets  sound  their  loudest  point  of 
war, 

Fling  the  red  shreds,  a  footcloth  meet  for  Henry  of  Navarre. 

Ho!  maidens  of  Vienna;  Ho!  matrons  of  Lucerne; 
Weep,  weep,  and  rend  your  hair  for  those  who  neve'r  shall  return. 
Ho!  Philip,  send,  for  charity,  thy  Mexican  pistoles, 
That  Antwerp  monks  may  sing  a  mass  for  thy  poor  spearmen's 
souls. 

Ho !  gallant  nobles  of  the  League,  look  that  your  arms  be  bright  • 
Ho!  burghers  of  Saint  Genevieve,  keep  watch  and  ward  to-night. 
For  our  God  hath  crushed  the  tyrant,  our  God  hath  raised  the 
slave, 

And  mocked  the  counsel  of  the  wise,  and  the  valour  of  the  brave. 
Then  glory  to  His  holy  name,  from  whom  all  glories  are  ; 
And  glory  to  our  Sovereign  Lord,  King  Henry  of  Navarre. 

1824. 


THE  AEMADA: 


A  FRAGMENT. 


n 


Attend,  all  ye  who  list  to  hear  our  noble  England's  praise ; 
I  tell  of  the  thrice  famous  deeds  she  wrought  in  ancient  days 
Wh.jn  that  great  fleet  invincible  against  her  bore  in  vain 
The  richest  spoils  of  Mexico,  the  stoutest  hearts  of  Spain) 

It  was  about  the  lovely  close  of  a  warm  sumnfer  day, 
There  came  a  gallant  merchant-ship  full  sail  to  Plymouth  Bay 
Her  crew  hath  seen  Castile's  black  fleet,  beyond  Aurigny's  isle 
At  earliest  twilight,  on  the  waves  lie  heaving  many  a  mile. 
At  sunrise  she  escaped  their  van,  by  God's  especial  grace  ; 
And  the  tall  Plata,  till  the  noon,  had  held  her  close  in  chase. 
Forthwith  a  guard  at  every  gun  was  placed  along  the  wall ; 
The  beacon  blazed  upon  the  roof  of  Edgecumbe's  lofty  hall ; 
Many  a  light  fishing-bark  put  out  to  pry  along  the  coast, 
And  with  loose  rein  and  bloody  spur  rode  inland  many  a  post. 
With  his  white  hair  unbonneted,  the  stout  old  sheriff'  comes  ; 
Behind  him  march  the  halberdiers ;  before  him  sound  the  drums  • 
His  yoemen  round  the  market  cross  make  clear  an  amnlft  snnne  • 
For  there  behoves  him  to  set  up  the  standard  of  Her  Grace. 


THE  ARMADA. 


133 


And  haughtily  the  trumpets  peal,  and  gailj  dance  the  bells 

As  slow  upon  the  labouring  wind  the  royal  blazon  swells     ' 

Look  how  the  Lion  of  the  sea  lifts  up  his  ancient  crown 

And  underneath  his  deadly  paw  treads  the  gay  lilies  down 

So  stalked  he  when  he  turned  to  flight,  on  that  famed  Picard  field 

Bohemia  s  plume,  and  Genoa's  bow,  and  Cesar's  eagle  shield        ' 

So  glared  he  when  at  Agincourt  in  wrath  he  turned  to  bay 

^    And  crushed  and  torn  beneath  his  claws  the  princely  hunte'rs  lay 

Hoi  strike  the  flagstaff  deep,  Sir  Knight:  ho!  scatter  flowers  fair 
maids :  ' 

Ho  I  gunners,  fire  a  loud  salute  :  ho  I  gallants,  draw  your  blades  • 
Thou  sun,  shine  on  her  joyously  ;  ye  breezes,  waft  her  wide  • 
Our  glorious  semper  eadbm,  the  banner  of  our  pride.  ' 

The  freshening  breeze  of  eve  unfurled  that  banner's  massy  fold 
The  parting  gleam  of  sunshine  kissed  that  haughty  scroll  of  gold 
Night  sank  upon  the  dusky  beach  and  on  the  purple  sea. 
Such  night  in  England  ne'er  had  been,  nor  ne'er  again  shall  be. 
From  Eddystone  to  Berwick  bounds,  from  Lynn  to  Milford  Bay, 
That  time  of  slumber  was  as  bright  aud  busy  as  the  day ; 
For  swift  to  east  and  swift  to  west  the  ghastly  war-flame  spread, 
High  on  St  Michael's  Mount  it  shone  :  it  shone  on  Beachy  Head.  ' 
Far  on  the  deep  the  Spaniard  saw,  along  each  southern  shire,      '    - 
Cape  beyond  cape,  in  endless  range,  those  twinkling  points  of  fire 
The  fisher  left  his  skiflF  to  rock  on  Tamar's  glittering  waves  : 
The  rugged  miners  poured  to  war  from  Mendip's  sunless  caves  : 
O'er  Longleat's  towers,  o'er  Cranbourne's  oaks,  the  fiery  herald 
flew : 

He  roused  the  shepherds  of  Stonehenge,  the  rangers  of  Beaulieu. 
Right  sharp  and  quick  the  bells  all  night  rang  out  from  Bristol 
town. 

And  ere  the  day  three  hundred  horse  had  met  on  Clifton  down  • 

The  ap.ntinol  r.r.  wruu«u„ii  i     .     ,  -      .    .  ' 

..,,  „  „,,ciiaii  giiLu  iooKea  loriii  into  the  night 

And  saw  o'erhanging  Richmond  Hill  the  streak  of  blood-red  light. 


134 


THE  ARMADA. 


Then  bugle's  note  and  cannon's  roar  the  deathlike  silence  broke 
And  with  one  start,  and  with  one  cry,  the  royal  city  woke. 
At  once  on  all  her  stately  gates  arose  the  answering  fires  * 
At  once  the  wild  alarum  clashed  from  all  her  reeling  spires  • 
From  all  the  batteries  of  the  Tower  pealed  loud  the  voice  of  fear  • 
And  all  the  thousand  masts  of  Thames  sent  back  a  louder  cheer : 
And  from  the  furthest  vvards  was  heard  the  rush  of  hurrying  feet 
And  the  broad  streams  of  pikes  and  flags  rushed  down  each  roar- 
ing street; 
And  broader  still  became  the  blaze,  and  louder  still  the  din 
As  fast  from  every  village  round  the  horse  came  spurring  in : 
And  eastward  straight  from  wild  Blackheath  the  warlike  errand 
went, 

And  roused  in  many  an  ancient  hall  the  gallant  squires  of  Kent. 

Southward  from  Surrey's  pleasant  hills  flew  those  bright  couriers 
forth; 

High  on  bleak  Hampstead's  swarthy  moor  they  started  for  the 
north ; 

And  on,  and  on,  without  a  pause,  untired  they  bounded  still  : 

All  night  from  tower  to  tower  they  sprang;  they  sprang  from  hill 
to  hill: 

Till  the  proud  peak  unfurled  the  flag  o'er  Darwin's  rocky  dales, 
Till  like  volcanoes  flared  to  heaven  the  stormy  hills  of  Wales 
Till  twelve  fair  counties  saw  the  blaze  on  Malvern's  lonely  height, 
Till  streamed  in  crimson  on  the  wind  the  Wrekin's  crest  of  light, 
Till  broad  and  fierce  the  star  came  forth  on  Ely's  stately  fane, 
And  tower  and  hamlet  rose  in  arms  o'er  all  the  boundless  plain ; 
Till  Belvoir's  lordly  terraces  the  sign  to  Lincoln  sent, 
And  Lincoln  sped  the  message  on  o'er  the  wide  vale  of  Trent; 
Till  Sl'iddaw  saw  the  fire  that  burned  on  Gaunt's  embattled  pile, 
And  the  red  glare  on  Sklddaw  roused  the  burghers  of  Carlisle. 


1M2- 


THB  BND. 


►roke,  ^ 


of  fear ; 
cheer : 
ag  feet, 
;h  roar- 

'» 

^' 

errand 

Jent. 
ouriers 

for  the 


m  hill 

ales, 

leight, 
ight, 
le, 
ain ; 


t; 

pile, 

le. 


iH 


i ' 


H 


LA  YS 


OV 


THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS 


AND    OTHER    POEMS. 


B7 


WILLIAM  EDMONDSTOUNB  AYTOTUf,  D.C.L., 

Prqfmor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Literature  in  th» 
University  of  Edinburgh. 


ammmimmmmmra 


1-- 


n 


TO 


THE     BIGHT     HOKOVRABLB 

ARCHIBALD  WILLIAM  MONTGOMERIE, 

e&xl  0f  eglittton  uxm  minton,  3SiM., 

THE  PATEIOTIO  AND  KOBLB  RBPRBSENTATIVB  OF  AN 
ANCIENT  SCOTTISH  BAOE| 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  EESPECTFDLLT  INSCRIBED 


BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


r 


i 


CONTENTS 


LAYS  OP  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS 

PASS 
EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN I43 

THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE 163 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUOB I79 

THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE 193 

THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENOOE 215 

THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS 230 

CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES , 249 

THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER „.., 28S 

MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS  ' 

BLIND  OLD  MILTON 301 

HERMOTIMUS , , 8q3 

(ENONB ., gjQ 

THE  BURIED  FLOWER 322 

THE  OLD  OAMP :,..,       831 

DANUBE  ASB  xHiS  SUStKB , gjj^ 


I, 


MMMHMMMMMMWa 


142 


CONTENTS. 


MISOELLANEOUS  FOKM&-(  CimMnutfd) 

THB  SCBEIK  OF  BINAI gjj 

EPITAPH  OF  CONSTAKTINB  KANABIS 843 

THB  HBFUaAL  OF  OHAHON , g^ 

APPENDIX 

BXAMINATIO  OF  THB  STATEMENTS  IN  MR  MACAULAY'S  HISTOBT 
OF  ENGLAND,  REOABDINO  JOHN  ORAHAMB  OF  CLAVEBHOUSB, 
TISOOUNT  OF  DUNDEE , 345 


EDINBUEGH  AFTEK  FLODDEN. 


The  great  battle  of  Flodden  was  fought  upon  the  9th  of 
September  1513.  The  defeat  of  the  Scottish  army, 
resulting  mainly  from  the  fantastic  ideas  of  chivalry 
entertained  by  James  IV.,  and  his  refusal  to  avail  himself 
of  the  natural  advantages  of  his  position,  wag  by  far  the 
most  disastrous  of  any  recounted  in  tne  history  of  the 
northern  wars.  The  whole  strength  of  the  kingdom,  both 
Lowland  and  Highland,  was  assembled,  and  the  contest 
was  one  of  the  sternest  and  most  desperate  upon  record. 

For  several  hours  the  is3ue  seemed  doubtful.  On  the 
left  the  Scots  obtained  a  decided  advantage ;  on  the  right 
wing  they  were  broken  and  overthrown  ;  and  at  last  the 
whole  weight  of  the  battle  was  brought  into  the  centre, 
where  King  James  and  the  ilarl  of  Surrey  commanded  in 
person.  The  determined  valour  of  James,  imprudent  as 
it  was,  had  the  effect  of  rousing  to  a  pitch  of  desperation 
the  courage  of  th^  meanest  soldiers;  and  the  ground 
becoming  soft  and  slippery  from  blood,  they  pulled  off 
their  boots  and  shoes,  and  secured  a  firmer  footing  by 
fighting  in  their  hose. 


I 

I 

I 


144        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISn  CA  VALIERS. 

"It  is  owned,"  says  Abercromby,   -that  both  parties 
did  wonders,  but  none  on  either  side  performed  more  than 
the  King  himself.     He  was  again  told  that,  by  coming  to 
handy  blows,  he  could  do  no   more  than   another   nmn 
whereas,  by  keeping  the  post  due  to  his  station,  he  mi.^ht 
be  worth  many  thousands.     Yet  he  would  not  only  fir^ht 
in  person    but  also  on  foot;  for  he  no  sooner  saw  Li 
body  of  the  English  give  way  which  was  defeated  by  the 
H^arl  of  Huntly,  but   he  alighted   from  his  horse,  and 
commanded  his  guard  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen  to  do 
the  like  and  follow  him.     He  had  at  first  abundance  of 
suecess ;  but  at  length  the  Lord  Thomas  Howard  and  Sir 
Edward  Stanley,  who  had  defeated  their  opposites,  comin<>. 
in  with   the   Lord    Dacre's  horse,  and  surrounding  the 
King  s  battalion  on  all  sides,  the  Scots  were  so  distressed 
that,  for  their  last  defence,  they  cast  themselves  into  a 
ring ;  and,  being  resolved  to  die  nobly  with  their  sove-    ' 
reign,  who  scorned  to  ask  quarter,  were  altogether  cut  off. 
So  say  the  English  writers,  and  I  am  apt  to  believe  that 
they  are  in  the  right." 

The  combat  was  maintained  with  desperate  fury  until 
nightfall.     At  the  close,  according  to  Mr  Tytler,  ''  Surrey 
was  uncertain  of  the  result  of  the  battle :  the  remains  of 
the  enemy's  centre  still  held  the  field ;   Home,  with  his 
Borderers,  still  hovered  on  the  left ;  and  the  commander 
wisely  allowed  neither  pursuit  nor  plunder,  but  'drew  off 
his  men,    and  kept   a   strict   watch   during   the   night 
When  the  morning  broke,  the  Scottish  artillery  were  seen 
standing  deserted  on  the  side  of  the  hill :  their  defenders 
had   disappeared ;    and   the  Earl  ordered  thanks   to   be 
given  for  a  victory  which  was  no  longer  doubtful      Yet 
even  after  all  this,  a  body  of  the  Scots  appeared  unbroken 


EDJNBUmU  AFTER  FLODDEN.  145 

upon  a  hill,  and  were  about  to  charge  the  Lord  Admiral 
when  they  were  compelled  to  leave  their  position  by  a 
discharge  of  the  English  ordnance. 

''  The  loss  of  the  Scots  in  this  fatal  battle  amounted  to 
about  ten  thousand  men.     Of  these  a  great  proportion 
were  of  nigh  rank ;  the  remainder  being  composed  of  the 
gentry,  the  farmers  and  landed  yeomanry,  who  disdained 
to  fly  when  their  sovereign  and  his  nobles  lay  stretched  in 
heaps  around  them."     Besides  King  James,  there  fell  at 
Flodden  the  Archbishop  of  St   Andrews,  thirteen  earls 
two  bishops,  two  abbots,  fifteen  lords  and  chiefs  of  clans 
and  five  peers'  eldest  sons,  besides  La  Motte  the  French 
ambassador,  and  the  secretary  of  the  King.      The  same 
historian  adds--  The  names  of  the  gentry  who  fell  are  too 
numerous  for  recapitulation,  since  there  were  few  families 
of  note  m  Scotland  which  did  not  lose   one  relative  or 
another,  whilst  some  houses  had  to  weep  the  death  of  all. 
It  IS  f-om  this  cause  that  the  sensations  of  sorrow  and 
national  lamentation  occasioned  by  the  defeat  were  pecu- 
liarly poignant  and  lasting_so  that  to  this  day  few  Scots- 
men can  hear  the  name  of  Flodden  without  a  shudder  of 
gloomy  regret." 

The  loss  to  Edinburgh  on  this  occasion  was  peculiarly 
great.  All  the  magistrates  and  able-bodied  citizens  had 
followed  their  King  to  Flodden,  whence  very  few  of  them 
returned.  The  office  of  Provost  or  chief  magistrate  of 
the  capital  was  at  that  time  an  object  of  ambition,  and  was 
conferred  only  upon  persons  of  high  rank  and  station. 
lUere  seems  to  be  some  uncertainty  whether  the  holder 
01  this  dignity  at  the  time  of  the  battle  of  Floddea 
was  feir  Alexander  Lauder,  ancestor  of  the  Fountainhall 
iamily,  who  was  elected  in  1511,  or  that  great  historical 


>i 


146  LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS 

personage,  Archibald  Earl   of  Angus,   better   known  as 
Archibald  Bell-the-Cat,  who  was  chosen  in  151.^,  the  year 
of  the  battle.      Both  of  them  were  at  Flodden.      The 
name  of  Sir  Alexander  Lauder  appears  upon  the  list  of 
the  slain.     Angus  was  one  of  the  survivors ;  but  his  son, 
George,  Master  of  Angus,  fell  fighting  gallantly  by  the 
side  of  King  James.     The  city  records  of  Edinburgh, 
which  commence  about  this  period,  are  not  clear  upon  the 
point,  and  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think  that  the  Earl  of 
Angus  was  elected  to  supply  the  place  of  Lauder.      But 
although  the   actual  magistrates  were  absent,  they  had 
formally  nominated  deputies  in  their  stead.     I  find,  on 
referring  to  the  city  records,  that  "  George  of  Tours" 
had  been  appointed  to  officiate  in  the  absence  of  the  Pro- 
vost, and  that  four  other  persons  were  selected  to  discharge 
the  oflSce  of  bailies  until  the  magistrates  should  return. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  consternation  which 
pervaded  the  whole  of  Scotland  when  the  intelligence  of 
the  defeat  became  known.  In  Edinburgh  it  was  exces- 
sive.    Mr.  Arnot,  in  the  history  of  that  city,  says— 

"  The  news  of  their  overthrow  in  the  field  of  Flodden 
reached  Edinburgh  on  the  day  after  the  battle,  and  over- 
whelmed the  inhabitants  with  grief  and  confusion.  The  ■ 
streets  were  crowded  with  women  seeking  intelligence 
about  their  friends,  clamouring  and  weeping.  Those  who 
officiated  in  absence  of  the  magistrates  proved  themselves 
worthy  of  the  trust.  They  issued  a  proclamation,  ordering 
all  ^he  inhabitants  to  assemble  in  military  array  for  de- 
fence of  the  city,  on  the  tolling  of  the  bell ;  and  command- 
ing, 'that  all  women,  and  especially  strangers,  do  repair 
to  their  7/ork,  and  not  be  seen  upon  the  street  damorand 
and  cryand;  and  that  women  of  thfi  hpffpr  ««rf  ^n  v^«„;. 


MDINBmQB  AFTER  FLODDm.  UJ 

to  the  church  and  offer  np-nravera   «t  *i.„   ^  ,  ,  , 
fur  niir  «„,      •      T      ,     '^  l'™?^™.  at  the  stated  honra 
lor  our  Sovereign  Lord  and  his  army  and  th^  f„  ' 

who  are  with  the  army.'  "  ^'  '"wnsmen 

Indeed,  the  Council  records   bear  ample  evidence  of 
the  emergency  of  that  occasion.     Throuio„,T.       ,.  ^ 
pages    the  word  "  Flowdoun"  frequ  n^fy  ^    *  Jfir 
n.arg.„  u.  reference  to  various  hurried  oLZZ  1  n! 
and  defence;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  hT  h! 
English  forces  attempted  to  follow  up  their  victorv       ! 
attack  the  Scottish  capita,,  the  citi  Js  Sd C'^LII 
ed  to  the  last.     But  it  soon  became  apparent  that  !h.  1 
sustained  by  the  English  was  so  severtbl  t  ^e^  w^ 
n  no  condition  to  avail  himself  of  the  ;pportunity     and 
.f^ortly  afterwards,  he  was  comj^Ld  to  Land 

The   references   to  the  city  banner  contained  i„  the 

following  poem,  may  require  a  word  of  explanation      U 

is  a  standard  still  held  in  great  honour  and  reve    n;e  by 

he  burghers  of  Edinburgh,  having  been   presen'd  t^ 

nT482'  tZ  ■'  "  T""  '"  ''''"  '"^^^  -"■- 
M  r,  u  """"■'  "'""S  '''*  t"-^*  »f  tie  Earl 
Marischal  still  conspicuous  in  the  Library  of  the  Faculty 

of  Advocates,  was  honourably  brought  back  from  Flodden 
and  certainly  never  could  have  been  displayed  in  a  ™ 
memorable  field.     Maitland  says,  .itl.lXtZV^^ 
very  interesting  relic  of  antiquity— 

"As  a  perpetual  remembrance  of  the  loyalty  and 
bravery  of  the  Edinburghers  ou  the  aforesaid^ocfasien 
the  King  granted  them  a  banner  or  standard,  with  a  Zer 
to  display  the  same  in  defence  of  their  king,  country  and 
their  own  rights.  This  flag  is  kept  bv  the  ar.,„i'Z 
the  Trades;  at  whose  appearance  therewith,  it  is  said  that 


I 


148         LAYS  OF  TBE  SCOTTISM  CAVALIERS. 

not  only  the  artificers  of  Edmburgh  are  obliged  to  repair 
to  it,  but  all  the  artisans  or  craftsmen  within  Scotland  are 
bound  to  follow  it,  and  fight  under  the  Convener  of  Edin- 
burgh as  aforesaid." 

Ko  event  in  Scottish  history  ever  took  a  more  lasting 
hold  of  the  public  mind  than  the  "  woeful  fight"  of  Flod- 
den ;  and,  even  now,  the  songs  and  traditions  which  are 
current  on  the  Border  recall  the  memory  of  a  contest 
unsullied  by  disgrace,  though  terminating  in  disaster  and 
defeat. 


H 


EDINBUEGH  AFTER  FLODDEIf. 


I. 

News  of  battle  1— news  of  battle  I 

Hark  I  'tis  ringing  down  the  street: 
And  the  archways  and  the  pavement 

Bear  the  clang  of  hurrying  feet. 
News  of  battle  I  who  hath  brought  it? 

News  of  triumph  ?    Who  should  bring 
Tidings  from  our  noble  army, 

Greetings  from  our  gallant  King? 
All  last  night  we  watched  the  beacons 

Blazing  on  the  hills  afar, 
Each  oile  bearing,  as  it  kindled, 

Message  of  the  opened  war. 
All  night  long  the  northern  streamers 

Shot  across  the  trembling  sky  : 
Fearful  lights  that  never  beckon 

Save  when  kings  or  heroes  die. 

News  of  battle  I    Who  hath  brought  it  ? 

All  are  thronging  to  the  gate ; 
*  Warder— warder !  open  quicklv : 

Man— is  this  a  time  to  wait?" 


150 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS, 


'  ■ 


i 


And  the  heavy  gates  are  opjned: 

Then  a  murmur  long  and  loud, 
And  a  cry  of  fear  and  wonder 

Bursts  from  out  the  bending  crowd. 
Fjf  they  see  in  battered  harness 

Only  one  hard-stricken  man ; 
And  his  weary  steed  is  wounded, 

And  his  cheek  is  pale  and  wan : 
Spearless  hangs  a  bloody  banner 

In  his  weak  and  drooping  hand- 
God  I  can  that  be  Randolph  Murray, 

Captain  of  the  city  band  ? 

HI. 

Round  him  crush  the  people,  crying, 

"  Tell  us  all— oh,  tell  us  true  I 
Where  are  they  who  went  to  battle, 

Randolph  Murray,  sworn  to  you  ? 
Where  are  they,  our  brothers — children  ? 

Have  they  met  the  English  foe  ? 
Why  art  thou  alone,  unlbllowed? 

Is  it  weal  or  is  it  woe  ?  " 
Like  a  corpse  the  grisly  warrior 

Looks  from  out  his  helm  of  steel  j 
But  no  word  he  speaks  in  answer — 

Only  with  his  arm^d  heel 
Chides  his  weary  steed,  and  onward 

Up  the  city  streets  they  ride 
Fathers,  sisters,  mothers,  children. 

Shrieking,  praying  by  his  side. 
"  By  the  God  that  made  thee,  Randolph  I 

Tell  us  what  mischance  hath  come." 
Then  he  lifts  his  riven  banner. 

And  the  asker's  voice  is  dumb. 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN. 


151 


IV. 

The  elders  of  the  city- 
Have  met  within  their  hall— 
The  men  whom  gcod  King  James  had  charged 

To  watch  the  tower  and  wall. 
"  Your  hands  are  weak  with  age,"  he  said, 

*'  Your  hearts  are  stout  and  true ; 
So  bide  ye  in  the  Maiden  Town, 

While  others  fight  for  you. 
Mj  trumpet  from  the  Border-side 

Shall  send  a  blast  so  clear, 
That  all  who  wait  within  the  gate 

That  stirring  sound  may  hear. 
Or,  if  it  be  the  will  of  Heaven 

That  back  I  never  come. 
And  if,  instead  of  Scottish  shouts, 

Ye  hear  the  English  drum, — 
Then  let  the  warning  bells  ring  out, 

Then  gird  you  to  the  fray. 
Then  man  the  walls  like  burghers  stout, 

And  fight  while  fight  you  may. 
'Twere  better  that  in  fiery  flame 

The  roofs  should  thunder  down, 
Than  that  the  foot  of  foreign  foe 
Should  trample  in  the  town  I" 


Then  in  came  Randolph  Murray,— 
His  step  \/as  slow  and  weak. 

And,  ds  he  doffed  his  dinted  helm. 
The  tears  ran  down  his  cheek : 


162        LAYS  Of  TBE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

They  fell  upon  his  corslet 

And  on  his  mailed  band, 
As  he  gazed  around  him  wistfully, 

Leaning  sorely  on  his  brand. 
And  none  who  then  beheld  him 

But  straight  were  smote  with  fear, 
For  a  bolder  and  a  sterner  man 

Had  never  couched  a  spear. 
They  knew  so  sad  a  messenger 

Some  ghastly  news  must  bring ; 
And  all  of  them  were  fathers, 

And  their  sens  were  with  the  King. 


VI. 


And  up  then  rose  the  Provost— 

A  brave  old  man  was  he, 
Of  ancient  name,  and  knightly  fame, 

And  chivalrcas  degree. 
He  ruled  our  city  like  a  Lord 

Who  brooked  no  equal  here, 
And  ever  fpr  the  townsman's  rights 

Stood  up  'gainst  prince  and  peer. 
And  he  had  seen  the  Scottish  host 

March  from  the  Borough-muir, 
With  music-storm  and  clamorous  shout, 
And  all  the  din  that  thunders  out 

When"  youth's  of  victory  sure. 
But  yet  a  dearer  thought  had  he,— 

For,  with  a  father's  pride, 
He  saw  his  last  remaining  son 

Go  forth  bT  Handnlnh'a  a\Ha 

„ ^ _ J 


EDmnnROH  APTER  flodden. 

With  Casque  on  he^d  and  spur  on  heelj 
All  keen  to  do  and  dare ; 

And  proudly  did  that  gallant  boy 
Dunedin's  banner  bear. 

Oh !  woeful  now  was  the  old  man'  look^ 
And  he  spake  right  heavily-a- 

"Now,  Randolph,  tell  thy  tidings, 
However  sharp  they  be  1 

Woe  is  written  on  thy  visage, 
Death  is  looking  from  thy  face 

Speak  1  though  it  be  of  overthrow- 
It  cannot  be  disgrace  I  ^ 


163 


vir. 


ftight  bitter  was  the  agony 
That  wrung  that  soldier  ptoud : 

Thrice  did  he  strive  to  answer, 
And  thrice  he  groaned  aloud% 

Then  he  gave  the  riven  banner 
To  the  old  man's  shaking  hand, 

Saying—"  That  is  all  I  bring  ye 
From  the  bravest  of  the  land 

Ay !  ye  may  look  upon  it- 
It  was  guarded  well  and  long, 

By  your  brothers  and  joya  children, 
By  the  valiant  and  the  strong. 

One  by  one  they  fell  around  it. 
As  the  archers  laid  them  low, 

Grimly  dying,  still  unconquered. 
With  their  faces  to  the  foe. 


ih 


1B4         LAVS  OF  TEE  8C0TTISE  CAVALIERS. 

Ay!  ye  may  well  look  upon  it- 
There  is  more  than  honour  there, 

Else,  be  sure,  I  had  not  brought  it 
From  the  field  of  dark  despair. 

Never  yet  was  royal  banner 
Steeped  in  such  a  costly  dye ; 

It  hath  lain  upon  a  bosom 
Where  no  other  shroud  shall  lie. 

Sirs !  I  charge  you,  keep  it  holy ; 
Keep  it  as  a  sacred  thing, 

For  the  stain  ye  see  upon  it 
Was  the  life-blood  of  your  King  I " 


n 


VIII. 


Woe,  antl  woe,  and  lamentation  I 

What  a  piteous  cry  was  there ! 
Widows,  maidens,  mothers,  children, 

Shrieking,  sobbing  in  despair ! 
Through  the  streets  the  death-word  rushes, 

Spreading  terror,  sweeping  on— 
"  Jesu  Christ  I  our  King  has  fallen— 

0  Great  God,  King  James  is  gone  I 
Holy  Mother  Mary,  shield  us. 

Thou  who  erst  didst  lose  thy  Son! 
0  the  blackest  day  for  Scotland 

That  she  ever  knew  before  I 
0  our  King— the  good,  the  noble, 

Shall  we  see  him  never  more  ? 
Woe  to  us,  and  woe  to  Scotland  1 
0  our  sons,  our  sons  and  men  I 
Surely  some  have  'scaped  the  Southron, 
Surely  some  will  come  again  I 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN. 

Till  the  oak  that  fell  last  winter 
Shall  uprear  its  shattered  stem — 

Wives  and  mothers  of  Dunedin — 
Ye  may  look  in  vain  for  them  I 

IX. 

But  within  the  Council  Chamber 

All  was  silent  as  the  grave, 
Whilst  the  tempest  of  their  sorrow 

Shook  the  bosoms  of  the  brave. 
Well  indeed  might  they  be  shaken 

With  the  weight  of  such  a  blow : 
He  was  gone— their  prince,  their  idol, 

Whom  they  loved  and  worshipped  so  I 
Like  a  knell  ot  death  and  judgment^ 

Rung  from  heaven  by  angel  hand, 
Fell  the  words  of  desolation 

On  the  elders  of  the  land. 
Hoary  heads  were  bowed  and  trembling. 

Withered  hands  were  clasped  and  wrung; 
God  had  left  the  old  and  feeble, 

He  had  ta'en  away  the  young. 


156 


X. 

Then  the  Provost  he  uprose. 

And  his  lip  was  ashen  white  ; 
But  a  flush  was  on  his  brow, 

And  his  eye  was  full  of  light. 
*'  Thou  hast  spoken,  Randolph  Murray, 

Like  a  soldier  stout  and  true ; 
Thou  hast  done  a  deed  of  daring 

Had  been  perilled  but  by  t^yr. 


166 


, 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

For  thou  hast  not  ahamed  to  face  us, 
Nor  to  speak  thv  ghastly  tale, 

Standing— thou  a  knight  and  captain- 
Hen.,  alive  within  thy  mail  I 

Now,  as  my  God  shall  judge  me, 
I  hold  it  braver  done. 

Than  hadst  thou  tarried  in  thy  place, 
And  died  above  ray  son  I 

Thou  needst  not  tell  it :  he  is  dead. 

God  help  us  all  this  day! 
But  speak— how  fought  the  citizens 

Within  the  furious  fray  ? 
For  by  the  might  of  Mary  I 

'Twere  fiome thing  still  to  tell 
That  no  Scottish  foot  went  backward 
When  tho  Royal  Lion  fell  1 " 

XI. 

"  No  one  failed  him !    He  is  keeping 

Royal  state  and  semblance  still ; 
Knight  and  noble  lie  around  him, 

Cold  on  iUodden's  fatal  hill. 
Of  the  brave  and  galla.  t-hearted, 

Whom  you  sent  with  prayers  away, 
Not  a  single  man  departed 

From  bis  Monarch  j'esterday. 
Had  you  seen  them,  0  my  masters  I 

When  the  night  began  to  fall. 
And  the  Jdnglish  spearmen  gathered 

Round  a  grim  and  ghastly  wall 
As  the  wolves  in  winter  circle 

Round  thf>  leaguer  on  the  heath. 
So  the  greedy  foe  glared  upward, 


.„«^  =mii  iV4  uiuuu  M>a; 


aeath. 


EDINEVRQE  AFTER  FLQDDEN, 

But  a  rampart  rose  before  them, 

Which  the  boldest  dared  not  scale; 
Every  stone  a  Scottish  body, 

Every  step  a  corpse  in  mail  I 
And  behind  it  lay  our  Monarch, 

Clenching  still  his  shivered  sword; 
By  his  side  Montrose  and  Athole, 

At  his  feet  a  Southron  lord. 
All  so  thick  they  lay  together. 

When  thfj  stars  lit  up  the  sky, 
That  I  knew  not  who  were  stricken, 

Or  who  yet  remained  to  die. 
Few  there  were  when  Surrey  halted. 

And  his  wearied  Lost  withdrew ; 
None  but  dying  men  around  me, 

When  the  Eaglish  trumpet  blew, 
Then  I  stooped,  and  took  ihe  banner, 

As  you  see  it,  from  his  breast. 
And  I  closed  our  herd's  eyelids, 

And  I  left  him  to  his  rest. 
In  the  mountains  growled  the  thunder. 

As  I  leaped  the  woeful  wall, 
And  the  heavy  clouds  were  settling 

Over  Plodden,  like  a  pall." 

XII. 

So  he  ended.    And  the  othera 

Oared  not  any  answer  then ; 
Sitting  silent,  dumb  with  sorrow. 

Sitting  anguish -struck,  like  men- 
Who  have  seen  the  roaring  torrent 

Sweep  their  happy  homes  away. 
And  yet  linger  by  the  margin, 

Staring  wildly  on  the  spray. 


167 


168 


I 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISff  CAVALIERS, 

But,  without,  the  maddening  tumult 

Waxes  ever  more  and  more, 
And  the  crowd  of  walling  women 
Gather  round  the  Council  door. 
Every  dusky  .spire  is  ringing 

With  a  dull  and  hollow  knell, 
And  the  Miserere's  singing 

To  the  tolling  of  the  bell. 
Through  the  streets  the  burghers  hurry. 

Spreading  terror  as  they  go  ; 
And  the  rampart's  thronged  with  watchers 
For  the  coming  of  the  foe. 
.  From  each  mountain-top  a  pillar 

Streams  into  the  torpid  air 
Bearing  token  from  the  Border 

That  the  English  host  is  there. 
All  without  is  flight  and  terror, 
All  within  is  woe  and  fear- 
God  protect  thee,  Maiden  City, 
For  thy  latest  hour  is  near  I 

XIII. 
No  I  not  yet,  thou  high  Dunedin  1 

Shalt  thou  totter  to  thy  fall ; 
Though  thy  bravest  and  thy  strongest 

Are  not  there  to  man  the  wall. 
No,  not  yet  I  the  ancient  spirit 

Of  our  fathers  hath  not  gone ; 
Take  it  to  thee  as  a  buckler 

Better  far  than  steel  or  stone. 
Oh,  remember  those  who  perished 

For  thy  birthright  at  the  time 
When  to  be  a  Scot  was  treason, 

AjUi   +.n  Oi<1o  -RT-Wk  TIT^ll -_•_-  .    • 

,  „4...ii   TT  anauu  vriiue  I 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN, 


159 


Have  they  not  a  voice  among  ns, 

Whilst  their  hallowed  dust  is  here? 
Hear  ye  not  a  sumnions  sounding 

From  each  buried  warrior's  bier? 
Up  I— they  say— and  keep  the  freedom 

Which  we  won  you  long  ago : 
Up  I  and  keep  our  graves  unsullied 

From  the  insults  of  the  foe  I 
Up !  and  if  ye  cannot  save  them, 

Come  to  us  in  blood  and  fire: 
Midst  the  crash  of  falling  turrets 

Let  the  last  of  Scots  expire  1 

XIV. 
Still  the  bells  are  tolling  fiercely, 

And  the  cry  comes  louder  in; 
Mothers  wailing  for  their  children, 

Sisters  for  their  slaughtered  kin. 
All  is  terror  and  disorder ; 

Till  the  Provost  rises  up, 
Calm,  as  though  he  had  not  tasted 

Of  the  fell  and  bitter  cup. 
All  so  stately  from  his  sorrow, 

Rose  the  old  undaunted  chief. 
That  you  had  not  deemed,  to  see  him. 

His  was  more  than  common  grief. 
"  Rouse  ye,  Sirs  I "  he  said  ;  "  we  may  not 

Longer  mourn  for  what  is  done ; 
If  our  King  be  taken  from  us. 

We  are  left  to  guard  his  son. 
We  have  sworn  to  keep  the  city 

From  the  foe,  whate'er  they  be. 
And  the  oath  that  we  have  taken 


160 


? 


I 


■i 


LAYS  OF  ms  SC0TTT8B  0AVALIM8, 

Death  is  noaror  to  us,  brethren, 
Than  it  seemed  to  those  who  died 

Fighting  yesterday  at  Ploddon, 

By  their  lord  and  master's  side. 

Let  us  meet  it  then  in  paUence,  * 
Not  in  terror  or  in  fear  j 

Though  our  hearts  are  ble'eding  yonder, 

Let  our  souls  be  steadfast  hero. 
Up,  and  rouse  ye  I    Time  is  fleeting. 

And  we  yet  have  much  to  do ; 
Up  f  and  haste  ye  through  the  city, 

Stir  the  burghers  stout  and  true' 
Gather  all  our  scattered  people, 

Fling  the  banner  out  once  more,~ 

Randolph  Murray  I  do  thou  boar  it, 

As  it  erst  was  borne  before: 
Never  Scottish  heart  will  leave  it, 

When  they  see  their  Monarch's  gore 

XV, 

"Lot  them  cease  that  dismal  knelling 
It  is  time  enough  to  ring. 

When  the  fortress-strength'of  Scotland 

Stoops  to  ruin  like  its  King. 
Let  the  bells  be  kept  for  warning, 

Not  for  terror  or  alarm  ; 
When  they  next  are  heard  to  thunder, 

Let  each  man  and  stripling  arm. 
Bid  the  women  leave  their  wailing- 

Do  they  think  that  woeful  strain. 

From  the  bloody  heaps  of  Flodden,' 

Can  redeem  their  dearest  slain? ' 


EDINBVRQH  AFTER  FLODDBJST, 

Bid  them  ceaae,— or  rather  hasten 

To  the  churches  every  one ; 
There  to  pray  to  Mary  Mother, 

And  to  her  anointed  Son, 
That  the  thunderbolt  above  ug 

May  not  fall  in  ruin  yotj 
That  in  fire  and  blood  and  rapine 

Scotland's  glory  may  not  set. 
Let  them  pray,--for  never  women 

Stood  in  need  of  such  a  prayer  I— 
England's  yeomen  shall  not  find  them 

Clinging  to  the  altars  there. 
No  I  if  we  are  doomed  to  perish, 

Man  and  maiden,  let  us  fall, 
And  a  common  gulf  of  ruin 

Open  wide  to  whelm  us  all  I 
Never  shall  the  ruthless  spoiler 

Lay  his  hot  insulting  hand 
On  the  sisters  of  our  heroes, 

Whilst  we  bear  a  torch  or  brand  I 
Up  1  and  rouse  ye,  then,  my  brothers,-— 

But  when  next  ye  hear  the  bell 
Sounding  forth  the  sullen  summons 

That  may  be  our  funeral  knell. 
Once  more  let  us  meut  iDgether, 

Once  more  see  each  other's  face  ; 
Then,  like  men  that  need  not  tremble, 

Go  to  our  appointed  place. 
God,  our  Father,  will  not  fail  us. 
In  that  last  tremendous  hour, — 
If  all  other  bulwarks  crumble, 
Hb  will  be  our  strength  and  tower : 


161 


162        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Though  the  ramparts  rock  beneath  us, 

And  the  walls  go  crashing  down, 
Though  the  roar  of  conflagration 

Bellow  o'er  the  sinking  town ; 
There  is  yet  one  place  of  shelter, 

Where  the  foemen  cannot  come 
Where  the  summons  never  sounded 

Of  the  trumpet  or  the  drum. 
There  again  we'll  meet  our  children, 

Who,  on  Flodden's  trampled  sod, 
For  their  king  and  for  their  country 

Rendered  up  their  souls  to  God. 
There  shall  we  find  rest  and  refuge, 

With  our  dear  departed  brave 
And  the  ashes  of  the  city 
Be  our  universal  grave  1 " 


II       I 


THE  EXECUTION-  OF  MONTEOSE. 


The  most  poetical  chronicler  would  find-it  impossible  to 
render  the  incidents  of  Montrose's  brilliant  career  more 
picturesque  than  the  reality.     Among  the  devoted  cham- 
pions  who,  during  the  wildest  and  most  stormy  period  of 
our  history,  maintained  the  cause  of  Church  and  King, 
"the  Great  Marquis"  undoubtedly  is  entitled  to  the  fore- 
most place.     Even  party  malevolence,  by  no  means  extinct 
at  the  present  day,  has  been  unable  to  detract  from  the 
eulogy  pronounced  upon  him  by  the  famous  Cardinal  de 
Retz,  the  friend  of  Cond^  and  Turenne,  when  he  thus 
summed  up  his  character  :— "  Montrose,  a  Scottish  noble- 
man, head  of  the  house  of  Grahame— the  only  man  in  the 
world  that  has  ever  realised  to  me  the  ideas  of  certain 
heroes,  whom  we  now  discover  nowhere  but  in  the  lives 
of  Plutarch— has  sustained  in  his  own  country  the  cause 
of  the  King  his  master,  with  a  greatness  of  soul  that  has 
not  found  its  equal  in  our  age." 

But  the  success  of  the  victorious  leader  and  patriot  is 

almost  til  rn-oj-n    in  +  /->    +V>/^    c^l...  Jr>    U,-  +1-  .   ^     ii  .      . 

; "  '""^"  "-^'"^  cuaae  oy  the  noble  magnanimity 

and  Christian  heroism  of  the  man  in  the  hour  of  defeat 


164         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


and  death.  Without  wishing,  in  any  degree,  to  revive  a 
controversy  long  maintained  by  writers  of  opposite  political 
and  polemical  opinions,  it  may  fairly  be  stated  that  Scot- 
tish history  does  not  present  us  with  a  tragedy  of  parallel 
interest  That  the  execution  of  Montrose  was  the  natural, 
nay,  the  inevitable,  consequence  of  his  capture,  may  be 
freely  admitted  even  by  the  fiercest  partisan  of  the  cause 
for  which  he  staked  his  life.  In  those  times,  neither 
party  was  disposed  to  lenity ;  and  Montrose  was  far  too 
conspicuous  a  character,  and  too  dangerous  a  man,  to  be 
foro-iven.     But   the   ii^nominious    and 


savage 


treatment 

which  he  received  at  the  hands  of  those  whose  station  and 
descent  should  at  least  have  taught  them  to  respect  mis- 
fortune, has  left  an  indelible  stain  upon  the  memory  of  the 
Covenanting  chiefs,  and  more  especially  upon  that  of 
Argyle. 

The  perfect  serenity  of  the  man  in  the  hour  of  trial 
and  death,  the  courage  and  magnanimity  which  he  dis- 
played to  the  last,  have  been  dwelt  upon  with  admiration 
by  writers  of  every  class.  He  heard  his  sentence  deli- 
vered without  any  apparent  emotion,  and  afterwards  told 
the  magistrates  who  waited  upon  him  in  prison,  ''  that  he 
was  much  indebted  to  the  Parliament  for  the  great  honour 
they  had  decreed  him;"  adding,  "that  he  was  prouder 
to  have  his  head  placed  upon  the  top  of  the  prison,  than 
if  they  had  decreed  a  golden  statue  to  be  erected  to  him 
in  the  market-place,  or  that  his  picture  should  be  hun"-  in 
the  King's  bed-chamber."  He  said,  "he  thanked  them 
for  their  care  to  preserve  the  remembrance  of  his  loyalty, 
by  transmitting  such  monuments  to  the  different  parts  of 
the  kingdom ;  and  only  wished  that  he  had  flesh  enough  to 
have  sent  a  piece  to  every  city  in  Christendom,  as  a  token 


revive  a 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE.  166 

of  hU  „n.hakeu  love  and  fidelity  to  his  king  and  county." 
On  he  n,ght  before  his  execution,  he  inscribed  the  follow- 
ing Imes  with  u  diamond  on  the  window  of  his  jail .— 

"Let  tlicm  bestow  on  every  a!rth  a  limb 
Then  open  all  my  veins,  that  I  may  swim 
To  tl.ce,  my  Maker  I  in  that  crimson  lalie  • 
Then  place  my  parboiled  head  upon  a  stake- 
Scatter  my  ashes-strew  them  in  the  air- 
Lord  I  since  thou  knowest  where  all  these  atoms  arc. 
I'm  hopeful  thou'lt  recover  once  my  dust 
And  coniident  thou'lt  raise  mo  with  llie  just." 

After  the  Restoration  the  dust  wa,  recovered,  the 
scattered  remnants  collected,  and  the  bones  of  the  hero 
conveyed  to  their  final  resting-pluce  by  a  nun.crous  assem- 
blage of  gentlemen  of  his  family  and  name 

There  is  no  ingredient  of  fiction  in  the  historical  inci- 
dents recorded  in  the  following  ballad.     The  indignities 

hrongh  Mmbnrgh,  h.s  appearance  before   the  Estates, 
and  his  last  passage  to  the  scaffold,  as  well  as  his  uudaunt! 
ed  bearing,  have  all  been  spoken  to  by  eyewitnesses  of 
the  scene.     A  graphic  and  vivid  sketch  of  the  whole  will 
be  found  in  Mr  Mark  Napier's  volume,  "  The  Life  and 
Times  of  Montrose"-,  work  as  chivalrous  in  its  tone  as 
the  Chronicles  of  Froissart,  and  abounding  in  original  and 
most   mteresfng  materials;  but,  in  order  to  satisfy   „H 
J"P  e,  the  authorities  for  each  fact  are  given  in  the  shape 
of  notes.     The  ballad  may  be  considered  as  a  narrative  of 
the  tra„sa..,ons,  related  by  an  aged  Highlander,  who  had 
followed  Montrose  throughout  hiseamj.igns,  to  his  gr.ud- 
son,  shortly  before  the  battle  of  Killiocraukie 


mimSmif'mit'mSJ.'limm 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE. 


U 


\  i 


m. 


I. 

Comb  hither,  Evan  Cameron 

Come,  stand  beside  my  knee — 
I  hear  the  river  roaring  down 

Towards  the  wintry  sea. 
There's  shouting  on  the  mountain-side, 

There's  war  within  the  blast — 
Old  faces  look  upon  me, 

Old  forms  go  trooping  past : 
I  hear  the  pibroch  wailing 

Amidst  the  din  of  fight. 
And  my  dim  spirit  wakes  again 

Upon  the  verge  of  night. 

II. 

'Twas  I  that  led  the  Highland  host 

Through  wild  Lochaber's  snows, 
What  time  the  plaided  clans  came  down 

To  battle  wiih  Montrose. 
Fve  told  thee  how  the  Southrons  fell 

Beneath  the  broad  claymore, 
A  id  how  we  smote  the  Campbell  clan 

My  luvcrlochy's  shore. 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE, 

I've  told  thee  how  we  swept  Dundee, 
And  tamed  the  Lindsays'  pride ; 

But  never  have  I  told  thee  yet 
How  the  great  Marquis  died. 

III. 

A  traitor  sold  him  to  his  foes ; 

0  deed  of  deathless  shame  ! 
I  charge  thee,  boy,  if  e'er  thou  meet 

With  one  of  Assynt's  name- 
Be  it  upon  the  mountain's  side, 

Or  yet  within  the  glen, 
Stand  he  in  martial  gear  alone, 

Or  backed  by  ar;n6d  men- 
Face  him,  as  thou  wouldst  face  the  man 

Who  wronged  thy  sire's  renown ; 
Remember  of  what  blood  thou  art. 

And  strike  the  caitiff  down  I 


167 


IV. 

They  brought  him  to  the  Watergate, 

Hard  bound  with  hempen  span, 
As  though  they  held  a  lion  there, 

And  not  a  fenceless  man. 
They  set  him  high  upon  a  cart — 

The  hangman  rode  below — 
They  drew  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

And  bared  his  noble  brow. 
Then,  as  a  hound  is  slipped  from  leash, 

They  cheered  the  common  throng, 
And  blew  the  note  with  yell  and  shout. 


^ 


,/ 


i  i.l 


';;. 


168         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


It  would  hare  made  a  brcve  man's  heart 

Grow  sad  and  sick  that  dav. 
To  watch  the  keen  malignant  eyea 

Bent  down  on  that  array. 
There  stood  the  Whig  west-country  lords, 

In  balcony  and  bow ; 
There  sat  their  gaunt  and  withered  dames, 

And  their  daughters  all  a-row. 
And  every  open  window 

Was  full  as  full  might  be 
With  black-robed  Covenanting  carles, 
,,         That  goodly  sport  to  see  1 

VI. 

But  when  he  came,  though  pale  and  wan. 

He  looked  so  great  and  high. 
So  noble  was  his  manly  front, 

So  calm  his  steadfast  eye  ;— 
The  rabble  rout  forbore  to  shout, 

And  each  man  held  his  breath. 
For  well  tbey  knew  the  hero's  soul 

Was  face  to  face  with  death. 
And  then  a  mouriful  shudder 

Through  all  the  people  crept, 
And  some  that  came  to  scoff  at  him 

Now  turned  aside  and  wept. 

VII. 
But  onwards — always  onwards, 

In  silence  and  in  gloom, 
The  dreary  pageant  laboured, 

Till  it  reached^fthe  house  of  doom. 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE. 

Then  first  a  woman's  voice  was  heard 

In  jeer  and  laughter  loud, 
And  an  angry  cry  and  a  hiss  arose 

From  the  heart  of  the  tossing  crowd  : 
Then  as  the  Gramme  looked  upwards 

He  saw  the  ugly  amilp 
Of  him  who  sold  his  'ang  for  gold— 

The  master-fiend  Argj-le  1 

VIII. 

The  Marquis  gazed  a  moment, 

And  nothing  did  he  say. 
But  the  check  of  Argyle  grew  ghastly  pale 

And  he  turned  his  eyes  away. 
The  painted' harlot  by  his  side, 

She  shook  through  every  limb, 
For  a  roar  like  thunder  swept  the  street, 

And  hands  were  clenched  at  him ; 
And  a  Saxon  soldier  cried  aloud, 

"  Back,  coward,  from  thy  place  i 
For  seven  long  years  thou  hast  not  dared 

To  look  him  in  the  face," 

IX. 

Had  I  been  there  with  sword  in  hand. 

And  fifty  Oamerons  by, 
That  day  through  high  Dunedin's  streets 

Had  pealed  the  slogan-cry. 
Not  all  their  troops  of  trampling  horse. 

Nor  might  of  mail6d  men — 
Not  all  the  rebels  in  the  south 

Had  borne  us  backwards  then  I 


169 


^m 


\ 


• 


a 


\j:i 


i!i 


170         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Once  more  his  foot  on  Highland  heath 

Had  trod  as  free  as  air, 
Or  I,  and  all  who  bore  my  name, 

Been  laid  around  him  there  1 

X. 

It  might  not  be.    T'ley  placed  him  next 

Within  the  solemn  hall, 
Where  once  the  Scottish  kings  were  throned 

Anaidst  their  nobles  all. 
But  there  was  dust  of  vulgar  feet 

On  that  polluted  floor, 
And  perjured  traitors  filled  the  place 

Where  good  meu  sate  before. 
With  savage  gJee  came  Warristoun 

To  read  the  murderous  doom  ; 
And  then  npro^o  the  great  Montrose 

In  the  middle  of  the  room. 

XI. 

"Now,  by  my  faith  as  belted  knight, 

And  by  the  name  I  bear, 
-And  by  the  bright  Saint  Andrew's  cross 

That  waves  above  us  there 

Yea,  by  a  greater,  mightier  oath— 

And  oh,  that  such  should  be  I— • 
By  that  dark  stream  of  royal  blood 

That  lies  'twixt  you  and  me — 
I  have  not  sought  in  battle-field 

A  wreath  of  such  renown, 
Nor  dared  I  hope  on  my  dying  day 
To  win  the  martyr's  crown ! 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE. 


171 


XII. 

"  There  is  a  chamber  far  away 

Where  sleep  the  good  and  brave, 
But  a  better  place  ye  i.  ive  named  fcr  me 

Than  by  my  father's  prave. 
For  truth  and  right,  'gainst  treason's  might, 

This  hand  hath  always  striven, 
And  ye  raise  it  up  for  a  witness  still 

In  the  eye  of  earth  and  heaven. 
Than  nail  my  head  on  yonder  tower — 

Give  every  town  a  limb — 
And  God  who  made  shall  gather  them  : 

1  go  from  you  to  Him  1 " 

XIII. 

The  morning  dawned  full  darkly, 

The  rain  came  flashing  down, 
And  the  jagged  streak  of  the  levin-bolt 

Lit  up  the  gloomy  town : 
The  thunder  crashed  across  the  heaven, 

The  fatal  hour  was  come ; 
Yet  aye  broke  in  with  muffled  beat, 

The 'larm  of  the  drum. 
There  was  madness  on  the  earth  below 

And  anger  in  the  sky. 
And  yor  ^g  and  old,  and  rich  and  poor 

Came  forth  to  see  him  die. 


XIV. 

Ah,  God  I  that  ghastly  gibbet ! 

How  dismal  'tis  to  see 
The  great  tall  spectral  skeleton, 

The  ladder  and  the  tree ! 


172 


LAFS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Hark  I  hnrk !  It  Is  the  clash  of  arms— 

The  bells  begin  to  toll— 
"He  is  coming!  he  is  coming! 

God's  mercy  on  his  soul  I  " 
One  last  long  peal  of  thunder— 

The  clouds  are  cleared  away 
And  the  glorious  sun  once  more  looks  down 

AmidL't  the  daxzling  day. 


i.l 


XV. 

"Ho  is  coming  I  he  is  coming!" 

Like  a  bridegroom  from  his  room, 
Came  the  hero  from  his  prison 
To  the  scaffold  and  the  doom. 
There  was  glory  on  his  forehead, 

There  was  lustre  in  his  eye 
And  he  never  walked  to  battle 

More  proudly  than  to  die: 
There  was  colour  in  his  visage, 

Though  the  cheeks  of  all  were  wan, 
And  they  marvelled  as  they  saw  him  pass, 
That  great  and  goodly  man  I 


XVI. 

He  mounted  up  the  scaffold, 
And  he  turned  him  to  the  crowd  • 

But  they  dared  not  trust  the  people, 

•    So  he  might  not  speak  aloud. 

But  he  looked  upon  the  heavens, 
And  they  were  clear  and  blue, 

And  in  the  liquid  ether 
The  eye  of  God  shone  through 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE. 

Yet  a  black  and  murky  battlement 

Lay  resting  on  the  hill, 
As  though  the  thunder  slept  within — 

All  else  was  calm  and  still. 


173 


XVII. 

The  grim  Geneva  ministers 

With  anxious  scowl  drew  near, 
As  you  have  seen  the  ravens  flock 

Around  the  dying  deer. 
He  would  not  deign  them  word  nor  sign, 

But  alone  he  bent  the  knee  ; 
And  veiled  his  face  for  Christ's  dear  grace 

Beneath  the  gallows-tree.    . 
Then  radiant  and  serene  he  rose, 

And  cast  his  cloak  away  : 
For  he  had  ta'en  his  latest  look 

Of  earth  and  sun  and  day. 

xviir. 

A  beam  of  light  fell  o'er  him, 

Like  a  glory  round  the  shriven. 
And  he  climbed  the  lofty  ladder 

As  it  were  the  path  to  heaven. 
Then  came  a  flash  from  out  the  cloud. 

And  a  stunning  thunder-roll ; 
And  no  man  dared  to  look  aloft, 

For  fear  was  on  every  soul. 
There  was  another  heavy  sound, 

A  hush  and  then  a  groan ; 
And  darkness  swept  across  the  sky — 

The  work  of  death  was  done ! 


174        LAYS 


OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


NOTES  TO  THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE. 


"^  traitor  sold  him  to  Ma  foes:'— P.  167. 

Zr.r^'TrT^  ^^'*""^^^  °^  *^^  ^^^^^  °*  Sutherland  records 
wli    /         Z'^'"'  °^  Invercarron)  Montrose   and    Kinnoul 
wandered  up  the  river  Kyle  the  whole  ensuing  night   a^d  1 

next  day,  and  the  third  day  also,  without  any  food  or  sustenance 

and  at  last  came  within  the  country  of  Assynt     The  Z  '; 

Kmnoul,  being  f.int  for  lack  of  n,eat,'and  nofL ,"  to    rave    any 

he  perished.  Mon  rose  had  almost  famished,  but  that  he  fortuned 
m  his  misery  to  light  upon  a  small  cottage  in  that  wilde  ne'f 
where  he  was  supplied  with  some  milk  and  bread.'  Not  even  ^e 
iron  frame  of  Montrose  could  endure  a  prolonged  existence  under 
such  circumstances.    He  gave  himself  up  to  Macleodo    Assynt  ^ 

cons.derat.on  of  that  circumstance,  and,  indeed,  from  the  dictates 
of  honourable  feeling  and  common  humanity.  As  the  Arly  e 
faction  had  sold  the  King,  so  this  Highlander  rendered  h^o^n 

"dutrtor"  d  f  f  ^  *'^  '"°  ''  ^^^  Covenanters,  for  wl"h 
duty  to  the  public'  he  was  rewarded  with  four  hundred  bolls  of 
moal.»-2^APiEii's  Life  of  Montrose. 

"  They  brought  him  to  the  WatergateP-P .  167. 

brZhtlf^ri  A^^^'*   "''^^"^"^   '^"^-   ^-'^-^  to    be 
Drought  from  the  Watergate  on  a  cart,  bareheaded,  the  hanjrman 

in  his  livery  covered,  riding  on  the  horse  that  draws  the  cart-the 

E:rVh  t  dT  ^^  '^'' ""''' '  ^^p«-*°  '^^  ^°^"-thtf 

House  fnd  it  '^"^  *^^°««  '<>  ^e  brought  to  the  Parliament 
receiv;  hi^  senten^  '"  ''  ""'T  ''  ^^^-«l"«"ts,  on  his  knees,  to 
of  fI  nV     T      l-""'^'^  t°  be  hanged  on  a  gibbet  at  the  C  oss 

dfad  aid  th  tf  ^l^  '''  '''  'P^^^  ^^  ^^^^^  ^°"^«  «"«!  he  be 
dead ,  and  thereafter  to  be  cut  down  by  the  hangman,  hi.  ho«d 

uauu.,  una  legB  to  be  cut  olt;  and  distributed  as  follows  :-viz  This 


TUE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE, 


;i,75 


heaa  to  be  affixed  on  an  iron  pin,  and  set  on  the  pinnacle  of  the 
west  gavel  of  the  new  prison  of  Edinburgh ;  one  hand  to  be  set 
on  the  port  of  Perth,  the  other .oq  the  port  of  Stirling;  one  leg 
and  foot  on  the  port  of  Aberdeen,  the  other  on  the  port  of  Glasgow. 
If  at  his  death  penitent,  and  relaxed  from  excommunication,  then 
the  trunk  of  his  body  to  be  interred  by  pioneers  in  the  Greyfriars  • 
otherwise,  to  be  interred  in  the  Boroughmuir,  by  the  hangman's 
men,  under  the  galiovrs."— Balfour's  Notes  of  Parliament. 

It  is  needless  to  remark  that  this  inhuman  sentence  was  executed 
to  the  letter.  In  order  that  the  exposure  might  be  more  complete 
the  cart  was  constructed  with  a  high  chair  in  the  centre,  having 
holes  behind,  through  which  the  ropes  that  fastened  him  were 
drawn.  The  author  of  the  Wi(/ton  Papers,  recently  published  by 
the  Maitlaud  Club,  says,  "  The  reason  of  his  being  tied  to  the  cart 
was  in  hope  that  the  people  would  have  stoned  him,  and  that  he 
might  not  be  able  by  his  hands  to  save  his  face."  His  hat  was 
then  pulled  off  by  the  hangman,  and  the  procession  commenced. 

"  But  when  he  came,  though  pale  and  wan, 
He  looked  so  great  and  high."  —P.  I;j8. 

"  In  all  the  way,  there  appeared  in  him  such  majesty,  courage 
modesty— and  even  somewhat  more  than  natural— that  those 
common  women  who  had  lost  their  husbands  and  children  in  his 
wars,  and  who  were  hired  to  stone  him,  were  upon  the  sight  of 
him  so  astonished  and  moved,  that  their  intended  curses  turned 
into  tears  and  prayers  ;  so  that  next  day  all  the  ministers  preached 
against  them/or  not  stoning  and  reviling  him." —  Wigton  Papers. 

"  Then  first  a  woman^s  voice  was  heard 
In  Jeer  a7id  laughter  loud."— P. 169. 

"  It  is  remarkable  that,  of  the  irany  thousand  beholders,  the 
Lady  Jean  Gordon,  Countess  of  Haddington,  did  (alone)  publicly 
insult  and  laugh  at  him;  which  being  perceived  by  a  gentleman 
in  the  street,  he  cried  up  to  her,  that  it  became  her  better  to  sit 
upon  the  cart  for  her  adulteries."—  Wigton  Papers.  This  infamous 
woman  was  the  third  daughter  of  Huntly,  and  the  niece  of  Argyle. 
It  will  hardly  be  credited  that  she  was  the  sister  of  that  gallant 
Lord  Gordon,  who  fell  fighting  by  the  side  of  Montrose,  only  five 
years  before,  at  the  battle  of  Aidford ! 


176         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

"  For  seven  long  years  thou  hast  not  dared 
To  look  him  in  the  faceJ'—V.  169. 

"The  Lord  Lorn  and  his  new  lady  were  also  sitting  on  a 
balcony,  joyful  spectators  ;  and  the  cart  being  stopped  when 
it  came  before  the  lodging  where  the  Chancellor,  Argyle,  and 
Warrisioun  sat— that  they  might  have  time  to  insult— he,'  sus- 
pecting the  business,  turned  his  face  towards  them,  whereupon 
they  presently  crept  in  at  the  windows ;  which  being  perceived  by 
an  Englishman,  he  cried  up,  it  was  no  wonder  they  started  aside 
at  his  look,  for  they  durst  not  look  him  in  the  face  these  seven 
years  bygone."—  Wigton  Papers. 

"  IVith  savage  glee  came  Warrisioun 
To  read  the  murderous  doom." — P.  170. 

Archibald  Johnston  of  Warristoun.     This  man,  who  was  the 
inveterate  enemy  of  Montrose,  and  who  carried  tlie  most  selfish 
spirit  into  every  intrigue  of  his  party,  received  the  punishment  of 
his  treasons  about  eleven  years  afterwards.    It  may  be  instructive 
to  learn  how  he  met  his  doom.     The  following  extract  is  from  the 
MSS.   of  Sir   George  Mackenzie :— "  The  Chancellor  and  oihers 
waited  to  examine  him;  he  foil  upon  his  face,  roaring,  and  with 
tears  entreated  they  would  pity  a  poor  creaturje  who  had  forgot  all 
that  was  in  the  Bible.     This  moved  all  the  spectators  with  a  deep 
melancholy  ;  and  the  Chancellor,  reflecting  upon  the  man's  great 
parts,   former  esteem,   and   the   great  share   he   had  in  all  the 
late  revolutions,  could  not  deny  some  tears  to  the  frailty  of  siJly 
mankind.    At  his  examination,  he  pretended  he  had  lost  so  much 
blood   by  the   unskilfulness  of  his  chirurgeons,  that  he  lost  his 
memory  with  his  blood;  and  I  really  believe  that  his  courage  had 
been  drawn  out  wiili  it.    Within  a  few  days  he  was  brought  before 
the  parliament,  where  he  discovered  nothing  but  much  weakness, 
running  up  and  down  upon  his  knees,  begging  mercy;  but  the 
parliament  ordained  his  former  sentence  to  be  put  to  execution, 
and  accordingly  he  was  executed  at  the  Cross  of  Edinburgh." 

"  And  God  who  made  shall  gather  them  : 
I  go  from  you  to  Jlim."—P.  171, 

"  He  said  he  was  much  beholden  to  the   parliament  for  the 
honour  they  put  on  him;  'for,'  says  he,   ^  think  It  a  greater 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE. 


177 


honour  to  have  my  head  standing  on  the  port  of  this  town,  for  this 
quarrel,  than  to  have  my  picture  in  tlio  king's  bed-chamber.  I  am 
beholden  to  you  that,  lest  my  loyalty  should  be  forgotten,  ye  have 
appointed  five  of  your  most  eminent  towns  to  bear  witness  of  it  to 
posterity." —  Wiglon  J'ajjers. 

"  JJe  is  coming  I  he  is  coming  I 
Like  a  bridegroom  from  his  room!^ — P.  172. 

"In  his  downgoings  from  the  Tolbooth  to  the  place  of  exe- 
cution, he  was  very  riclily  clad  in  fine  scarlet,  laid  over  with  rich 
silver  lace,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  his  bands  and  cuffs  exceeding 
rich,  his  delicate  white  gloves  on  his  hands,  his  stockings  of 
incaniaie  silk,  and  his  shoes  with  tiieir  ribbons  on  his  feet; 
and  sarks  provided  for  him  with [)earling  about, above  ten  pounds 
tlie  elne.  All  tliese  were  provided  for  him  by  his  friends,  and 
a  pretty  cassock  put  on  upon  him,  upon  the  scaffold,  wherein 
he  was  haugeU.  To  be  short,  uotliiug  was  here  dehcientto  honour 
his  poor  carcase,  more  beseeming  a  bridegroom  than  a  criminal 
going  to  the  gallows."— Nicholl's  JJiarg. 

'•'■The  grim  Geneva  ministers 
With  anxious  scowl  drew  near^ — P.  173. 

The  Presbyterian  ministers  beset  Montrose  both  in  prison  and  on 
the  scaffold.  The  following  extracts  are  from  the  diary  of  the 
Rev.  Robert  Traill,  one  of  the  persons  who  were  appointed  by  the 
commission  of  the  kirk  "  to  deal  with  him  :"— "  liy  a  warrant  from 
the  kirk,  we  staid  a  while  with  him  about  iiis  soul's  condition 
But  we  found  him  continuing  in  his  old  pride,  and  taking  very  ill 
what  was  spoken  to  him,  saying,  *1  ])ray  you,  gentlemen,  let 
me  die  in  peace.'  It  was  answered  that  he  might  die  in  true 
peace,  being  reconciled  to  the  Lord  and  to  his  kirk."— "  We 
returned  to  the  commission,  and  did  show  unto  them  what  had 
passed  amongst  us.  They,  seeing  that  for  the  present  he  was  not 
desiring  relaxation  from  his  censure  of  excommunication,  did 
appoint  Mr  Mungo  Law  and  me  to  attend  on  the  moirow  on 
the  scaffold,  at  the  time  of  his  execution,  that,  in  case  he  should 
desire  to  be  relaxed  from  his  excommunication,  we  should  be 
allowed  to  give  it  unto  him  in  the  name  of  the  kirk,  and  to  pray 
with  him,  and  for  him,  thai  what  is  loosed  on  earth  might  be  loosed  in 


178         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

heaven."  But  this  pious  intention,  which  may  appear  somewhat 
strange  to  the  modern  Calvinist,  when  the  prevailing  theories 
of  the  kirk  regarding  the  efficacy  of  absolution  are  considered,  was 
not  destined  to  be  fulfilled.  Mr  Traill  goes  on  to  say,  "  But  he 
did  not  at  all  desire  to  bo  relaxed  from  his  excommunication  in 
the  name  of  the  kirk,  yea,  did  not  look  towards  that  place  on 
the  scaffold  where  we  stood ;  only  he  drew  apart  some  of  the  magis- 
trates, and  spake  a  while  with  them,  and  then  went  up  the  ladder, 
in  his  red  scarlet  cassock,  in  a  very  stately  manner." 

"  And  he  climbed  the  lofty  ladder 
As  it  were  the  path  to  heaven." — P.  173. 

"  He  was  very  earnest  that  he  might  have  the  liberty  to  keep  on 
his  hat — it  was  denied  :  he  requested  he  might  have  the  privilege 
to  keep  his  cloak  about  him — neither  could  that  be  granted. 
Then,  with  a  most  undaunted  courage,  he  went  up  to  the  top 
of  that  prodigious  gibbet."—" The  whole  people  gave  a  general 
groan  ;  and  it  was  very  observable,  that  even  those  who,  at 
his  firpt  appearance,  had  bitterly  inveighed  against  him,  could  not 
now  abstain  from  tears." — Montrose  Medivivus. 


Bi    ; 


THE  HEAET  OF  THE  BRUCE. 


Hector  Boece,  in  his  very  delightful,  though  somewhat 
apocryphal  Chronicles  of  Scotland,  tells  us,  that  ''  quhen 
Schir  James  Douglas  was  chosin  as  maisi  worthy  of  c..^ 
Scotland  to  pass  with  King  Robertis  hart  to  the  Holy 
Land,  he  put  it  in  ane  cais  of  gold,  with  arromitike  and 
precious  iinyementis ;  and  tuke  with  him  Schir  William 
Sinclare  and  Schir  Robert  Logan,  with  mony  othir  nobil- 
men,  to  the  haiiy  graif ;  quhare  he  buryit  the  said  hart, 
with  maist  reverence  and  solera]. -.itie  that  could  be  devi- 
sit." 

But  no  contemporary  historian  bears  out  the  statement 
of  the  old  Canon  of  Aberdeen.  Froissart,  Fordoun,  and 
Barbour  all  agree  that  the  devotional  pilgrin^age  of  the 
good  Sir  James  was  not  destined  to  be  accomplished,  and 
that  the  heart  of  Scotland's  greatest  King  and  hero  was 
brought  back  to  the  land  of  his  nativity.  Mr  Tytler,  in 
few  words,  has  so  graphically  recounted  the  leading  events 
of  this  expedition,  the.:  I  do  not  hes'tate  to  adopt  his 
narrative : — 

"  As  soon  as  the  season  of  the  year  permitted,  Dou«-las 
having  the  lieait  of  hib  beloved  master  under  his  charire. 

M 


^-...._, — 


Pw|]iiiii'ii'|W|||!iwji.iu  I    111  .L  jpjWUlLim.l 


180 


LAYS  OF  TUB  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


set  sail  from  Scotland,  accompanied  by  a  splendid  retinue, 
and  anchored  off  Sluys  in  Flan  dors,  at  this  time  the  great 
seaport  of  the  NetherUad?*.  His  object  was  to  find  out 
companions  with  whom  he  might  travel  to  Jerusalem; 
but  he  declined  laudioir,  and  for  twelve  days  received  all 
visitors  on  U^ard  his  ;*hip  with  a  state  almost  kingly. 

'''At  Sluyshe  heard  that  Alonzo,  the  king  of  Leon  and 
Castile,  was  carrying  on  war  with  Osmyn,  the  Moorish 
governor  of  Granada.     The  religious  mission  which  he 
had  embraced^  and  the  vows  he  had  taken  before  leaving 
Scotland,  induced  Douglas  to  consider  Alonzo's  cause  as  a 
holy  warfare ;  and  before  proceeding  to  Jerusalem,  he  first 
determined  to  visit  Spain,  and  to  signalise   his  prowess 
against  the  Saracens.     But  his  first  field  against  the  Infi- 
dels proved  fatal  to  him  who,  in  the  long  English  war, 
had  seen  seventy  battles.     The  circumstances  of  his  death 
were   striking   and    characteristic.     In    an    action    near 
Theba,  on  the  borders  of  Andalusia,  the  Moorish  cavalry 
were  defeated ;  and  after   their   camp   had   been  taken, 
Douglas,  with  his  companions,  engaged  too  eagerly  in  the 
pursuit,  and  being  separated  from  the  main  body  of  the 
Spanish  army  a  strong  division  of  the  Moors  rallied  and 
surrounded  them.     The  Scottish  knight  endeavoured  to 
cut  his  way  through  the  Infidels,  and  in  all  probability 
would  have  succeeded,  had  he  not  again  turned  to  rescue 
Sir  William  Saint  Clair  of  Roslin,  whom  he  saw  in  jeo- 
pardy.    In  attempting  this,  he  was  inextricably  involved 
with  the  enemy.     Taking  from  his  neck  the  casket  which 
contained  the  heart  of  Bruce,  he  cast  it  before  him,  and 
exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice,   '  Now  pass  onward  as  thou 
wert  wont,  and  Douglas  will  follow  thee  or  die  I '     The 
action  and  the  sentiment  wc'C  heroic,  and  they  were  the 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE. 


181 


last  words  and  deed  of  a  heroic  life,  for  Douglas  fell  over- 
powered by  his  enemies;  and  three  of  his  knights,  and 
many  of  his  companions,  were  slain  along  with  their 
master.  On  the  succeeding  day,  the  body  and  the -casket 
were  both  found  on  the  field,  and  by  his  surviving  friends 
conveyed  to  Scotland.  The  heart  of  Bruce  was  deposited 
at  Melrose,  and  the  body  of  the  '  Good  Sir  James'— the 
name  by  which  he  is  affectionately  remembered  by  his 
countrymen— was  consigned  to  the  cemetery  of  his  fathers 
in  the  parish  church  of  Douglas." 

A  nobler  death  on  the  field  of  battle  is  not  recorded  in 
the  annals  of  chivalry.  In  memory  of  this  expedition, 
the  Douglases  have  ever  since  carried  the  armorial  bear- 
ings of  the  Bloody  Heart  surmounted  by  the  Crown;  and 
a  similar  distinction  is  borne  by  another  family.  Sir 
Simon  of  Lee,  a  distinguished  companion  of  Douglas,  was 
the  person  on  whom,  after  the  fall  of  his  leader,  the  cus- 
tody of  the  heart  devolved.  Hence  the  name  of  Lockhart, 
anl  their  eHu^j^  the  Heart  within  a  Fetterlock. 


THE  HEAET  OF  THE  BEUCE. 


ii 


I  .i 


I. 

It  was  upon  an  April  morn, 
"While  yet  the  frost  lay  hoar, 

We  heard  Lord  James's  bugle-horn 
Sound  by  the  rocky  shore. 

II. 

Then  down  we  went,  a  hundred  knights, 

All  iii  our  dark  array, 
And  flung  our  armour  in  the  ships 

That  rode  within  the  bay. 

III. 

We  spoke  not  as  the  shore  grew  less 

But  gazed  in  silence  back, 
^Where  the  long  billows  swept  away 
Tlie  foam  behind  our  track. 

WW, 

And  aye  the  purple  hues  decayed 

Upon  the  fading  hill, 
And  but  one  heart  in  all  that  ship 

Was  tranquil,  cold,  and  still. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE. 


183 


V. 

The  good  Lord  Douglas  paced  the  deck— 

Oil,  but  Ill's  face  was  wan  ! 
Unlike  the  flush  it  used  to  wear 

When  in  the  battle-van.— 

VI. 

«  Come  hither,  I  pray,  my  trusty  knight, 

Sir  Simon  of  the  Lee ; 
There  is  a  freit  lies  near  my  soul 

I  needs  must  tell  to  thee. 

VII. 

"  Thou  know'st  the  words  King  Robert  spoko 

Upon  his  dying  day: 
How  he  bade  me  take  his  noble  heart 

And  carry  it  far  away ; 

VIII. 

"  And  lay  it  in  the  holy  soil 

Where  once  the  Saviour  trod, 
Since  he  might  not  bear  the  blessed  Cross, 

Nor  strike  one  blow  for  God. 

IX. 

"  Last  night  as  in  my  bed  I  lay, 

I  dreamed  a  dreary  dream  :— 
Methought  I  saw  a  Pilgrim  stand 

In  the  moonlight's  quivering  beam. 

X. 

"  His  robe  was  of  the  azure  dj^e— 
Snow-white  his  scattered  hairs — 

And  even  such  a  cross  he  bore 
As  good  Saint  Andrew  bears. 


184         LAYS  OF  run  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS, 

XI. 

" '  Why  go  ye  forth,  Lord  James/  he  aald,. 

*  With  spear  and  belted  brand  ? 
Why  lo  you  take  ii  .^  dearest  pledge 

From  this  onr  Scottish  Imd  ? 

XII. 
"  *  The  sultry  Lreoze  of  Galilee 

Creeps  through  its  groves  of  palm, 
The  olives  on  the  Holy  Mount 

Stand  glittering  in  the  calm. 

xiir 

"'But  'tis  not  there  that  Scotland's  heart 
Shall  rest,  by  God's  decree, 

Till  the  great  angel  calls  the  dead 
To  rise  from  earth  and  seal 

XIV. 
"  '  Lord  James  of  Douglas,  mark  my  rede  I 

That  heart  shall  pass  once  more 
In  fiery  fight  against  the  foe, 

As  it  was  wont  of  yore. 

XV. 

"  '  And  it  shall  pass  beneath  the  Cross, 
And  save  King  Robert's  vow ; 

But  other  hands  shall  bear  it  back, 
Not,  James  of  Douglas,  thou  I ' 

XVI. 

«  Now,  by  thy  knightly  faith,  I  pray, 

Sir  Sunon  of  the  Lee— 
For  truer  friend  had  never  man 

Than  thou  hast  been  to  me— 


THIS  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE, 

XVII. 

"  If  ne'er  upon  the  Holy  Land 

'Tis  mine  in  life  to  tread, 
Bear  thou  to  Scotland's  kindly  earth 

The  relics  of  her  dead," 

XVIII. 

The  tear  was  in  Sir  Simon's  eye 
As  he  wrung  the  warrior's  hand— 

"  Betide  me  weal,  betide  me  woo, 
I'll  hold  by  thy  command. 

XIX. 

«  But  if  in  battle-front,  Lord  James, 
'Tis  ours  once  more  to  ride, 

Nor  force  of  man,  nor  craft  of  fiend, 
Shall  cleave  me  from  thy  side  1 " 

XX. 

And  aye  we  sailed,  and  aye  we  sailed, 

Across  the  weary  sea, 
Until  one  morn  the  coast  of  Spain 

Rose  grimly  on  our  Iee.~ 

XXI. 

And  as  we  rounded  to  the  port, 
Beneath  the  watch-tower's  wall. 

We  heard  the  clash  of  the  atabals, 
And  the  trumpet's  wavering  call. 

XXII. 
"  Why  sounds  yon  Eastern  music  here 

So  wantonly  and  long, 
And  whose  the  crowd  of  armM.  men 

That  round  von  standard  thron"?" 


185 


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186 


LAFS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS- 


XXIII. 
.  "The  Moors  have  come  from  Africa 

To  spoil,  and  waste,  and  slay, 
And  King  Alonzo  of  Castile 
Must  fight  with  them  to-day." 

XXIV. 

"Now  shame  it  were,"  cried  good  Lord  James, 

"  Shall  never  be  said  of  me, 
That  I  and  mine  have  turned  apide 

From  the  Cross  in  jeopardie ! 

XXV. 

"Have  down,  have  down,  my  merry  men  all- 
Have  down  unto  the  plain  ; 

We'll  let  the  Scottish  lion  loose! 
Within  the  fields  of  Spain  I " 

XXVI. 

"Now  welcome  to  me,  noble  lord, 

Thou  and  thy  stalwart  power ; 
Bear  is  the  sight  of  a  Christian  knight, 

Who  comes  in  such  an  hour  I 

XXVII. 
"Is  it  for  bond  or  faith  you  come, 

Or  yet  for  golden  fee  ? 
Or  bring  ye  France's  lilies  here. 

Or  the  flower  of  Burgundie  ?  " 

XXVIII. 

"  God  greet  thee  well,  thou  valiant  king. 

Thee  and  thy  belted  peers- 
Sir  James  of  Douglas  am  I  called, 

And  these  are  Scottish  spears. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE. 

XXIX. 

"We  do  not  fight  for  bond  or  plight, 

Nor  yet  for  golden  fee ; 
But  for  the  sake  of  our  blessed  Lord, 

Who  died  upon  the  tree. 

XXX. 

"  We  bring  our  great  King  Robert's  heart 

Across  the  weltering  wave, 
To  lay  it  in  the  holy  soil 

Hard  by  the  Saviour's  grave. 

XXXI. 

"  True  pilgrims  we,  by  land  or  sea. 

Where  danger  bars  the  way  j 
And  therefore  are  we  here,  Lord  King, 

To  ride  with  thee  this  day  I " 

XXXII. 

The  King  has  bent  his  stately  head, 
And  the  tears  were  in  his  eyne — 

"  God's  blessing  on  thee,  noble  knight, 
For  this  brave  thought  of  thine  I 

XXXIII. 
"  I  know  thy  name  full  well,  Lord  James  ; 

And  honoured  may  I  be, 
That  those  who  fought  beside  the  Bruce 

Should  fight  this  day  for  me ! 

XXXIV. 

"  Take  thou  the  leading  of  the  van, 

And  charge  the  Moors  amain ; 
There  is  not  such  a  lance  as  thine 

In  all  the  host  of  Spain  1" 


187 


Ii38        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS, 

XXXV. 

The  Douglas  turned  towards  us  then, 
Oh,  but  his  glance  was  high  I 

"  There  is  not  one  of  all  my  men 
But  is  as  frank  as  I. 

XXXVl. 

"  There  is  not  one  of  all  my  knighta 
But  bears  as  true  a  spear — 

Then— onwards,  Scottish  gentlemen, 
And  think,  King  Robert's  here ! " 

XXXVII. 

The  trumpets  blew,  the  cross-bolts  flew. 
The  arrows  flashed  like  flame, 

As,  spur  in  side,  and  spear  in  rest, 
Against  the  foe  we  came. 

XXXVIII. 

And  many  a  beardbd  Saracen 
Went  down,  both  horse  and  man : 

For  through  their  ranks  we  rode  like  corn, 
So  furiously  we  ran  I 

XXXIX. 

But  in  behind  our  path  they  closed. 

Though  fain  to  let  us  through ; 
For  they  were  forty  thousand  men, 
And  we  were  wondrous  few. 

XL. 
We  might  not  see  a  lance's  length. 

So  dense  was  their  array. 
But  the  long  fell  sweep  of  the  Scottish  blade 

Still  held  them  hard  at  bay. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE, 

XLI. 
"Make  in  I  make  in ! "  Lord  Douglas  cried- 

"  Make  in,  my  brethren  dear 
Sir  William  of  St  Clair  is  down ; 

We  may  not  leave  him  here  1 " 

XLII.      . 

But  thicker,  thicker  grew  the  swarm, 

And  sharper  shot  the  rain ; 
And  the  horses  reared  amid  the  press, 

But  they  would  not  charge  again. 

XLIII. 
"  Now  Jesu  help  thee,"  said  Lord  James, 

"  'TVou  kind  and  true  St  Clair  I 
An'  if  I  may  not  bring  thee  oflF, 

I'll  die  beside  thee  there  1 " 

XLIV. 
Then  in  his  stirrups  up  he  stood, 

So  lionlike  and  bold, 
And  held  the  precious  heart  aloft 

All  in  its  case  of  gold. 

XLV. 

He  flung  it  from  him  far  ahead, 

And  never  spake  he  more, 
But — "  Pass  thee  first,  thou  dauntless  heart, 

As  thou  wert  wont  of  yore  1 " 

XLVI. 

The  roar  of  fight  rose  fiercer  yet. 

And  heavier  still  the  stour, 
Till  the  spears  of  Spain  came  shivering  in, 

And  swept  away  the  Moor 


189 


190 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

XLVII. 
"  Now  praised  be  God,  the  day  is  won  I 

Tliey  fly  o'er  flood  and  fell- 
Why  dost  thou  draw  the  rein  so  hard, 

Good  knight,  that  fought  so  well  ?  » 

XLVIir. 
"Oh,  ride  ye  on.  Lord  King  I"  he  said, 

"  And  leave  the  dead  to  me ; 
For  I  must  keep  the  dreariest  watch 
That  ever  I  shall  dree  I 

XLIX. 
"  There  lies  above  his  master's  heart. 

The  Douglas,  stark  and  grim ; 
And  woe,  that  I  am  living  man. 

Not  lying  there  by  him  I 

L. 

"The  world  grows  cold,  my  arm  is  old, 

And  thin  my  lyart  hair, 
And  all  that  I  loved  best  on  earth 

Is  stretched  before  me  there. 

LI. 

"  0  Bothwell  banks,  that  bloom  so  bright 

Beneath  the  sun  of  May  I 
The  heaviest  cloud  that  ever  blew 

Is  bound  for  you  this  day. 

LII. 

"And,  Scotland,  thou  may'st  veil  thy    ead 

In  sorrow  and  in  pain : 
The  sorest  stroke  upon  thy  brow 

Hath  fallen  this  day  in  Spain  I 


# 


THE  BEART  OF  THE  BRUCE, 

•Lilt. 

"  We'll  bear  them  back  unto  our  ship, 

We'll  bear  them  o'er  the  sea, 
And  lay  them  in  the  hallowed  earth, 

Within  our  own  countrie. 

LIV. 

"And  be  thou  strong  of  heart.  Lord  King, 

For  this  I  tell  thee  sure, 
The  sod  that  drank  the  Douglas'  blood 

Shall  never  bear  the  Moor! " 

LV. 

The  King  he  lighted  from  his  horse, 

He  flung  his  brand  awaj, 
And  took  the  Douglas  by  the  hand, 

So  stately  as  he  lay. 

LVI. 

"  God  give  thee  rest,  thou  valiant  soul  I 
That  fought  so  well  for  Spam ; 

I'd  rather  half  my  land  were  gone, 
So  thou  wert  here  again  1 " 

Lvir. 

We  lifted  thence  the  good  Lord  James, 
And  the  priceless  heart  he  bore  • 

And  heaVily  we  steered  our  ship 
Towards  the  Scottish  shore. 

LVIII. 

No  welcome  greeted  our  return, 

Nor  clang  of  martial  tread, 
But  all  were  dumb  and  hushed  as  death 

Before  the  mighty  dead. 


191 


192         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

im. 

We  laid  our  chief  in  Douglas  Kirk, 
The  heart  in  fair  Melrose ; 

And  woeful  men  were  we  that  day — 
God  grant, their  souls  repose  I 


THE  BUEIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE. 


It  is  very  much  to  be  regretted  that  no  competent  person 
has  as  yet  undertaken  the  task  of  compiling  a  full  and 
authentic  biography  of  Lord  Viscount  Dundee.  His 
memory  has  consequently  been  left  at  the  mercy  of. 
writers  who  have  espoused  the  opposite  political  creed; 
and  the  pen  of  romance  has  been  freely  employed  to  por- 
tray as  a  bloody  assassin  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
men  and  gallant  soldiers  of  his  age. 

In  order  to  do  justice  to  Glaverhouse,  we  must  regard 
him  in  connection  with  the  age  and  country  in  which  he 
lived.  The  religious  diflferences  of  Scotland  were  then 
at  their  greatest  height ;  and  there  is  hardly  any  act  of 
atrocity  and  rebellion  which  had  not  been  committed 
by  the  insurgents.  The  royal  authority  was  openly  and 
publicly  disowned  in  the  western  districts:  the  Arch- 
bishop of  St  Andrews,  after  more  than  one  hairbreadth 
escape,  had  been  waylaid  and  barbarously  murdered 
by  an  armed  gang  of  fanatics  on  Magus  Muir ;  and  his 
daughter  was  wounded  and  maltreated  while  interceding 
for  the  old  man'js  life.     The  country  was  infested  by  ban- 


194 


LAFS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


I  • 


-    r 


ditti,  who  took  every  possible  opportunity  of  shooting 
down  and  massaorinp;  any  of  the  Htrag<;lin<:;  soldiery :  the 
clergy  were  attacked  and  driven  from  their  houses;  so 
that,  throughout  a  considerable  portion  of  Scotland,  there 
was  no  security  either  for  property  or  for  life.  It  was 
lately  the  fashion  to  praise  and  magnify  the  Covenanters 
as  the  most  innocent  and  persecuted  of  men  ;  but  those 
who  are  so  ready  with  their  sympathy,  rarely  take  the 
pains  to  satisfy  themselves,  by  reference  to  the  annals  of 
the  time,  of  the  true  character  and  motives  of  those  men 
whom  they  blindly  venerate  as  martyrs.  They  forget,  in 
their  zeal  for  religious  freedom,  that  even  the  purest  and 
holiest  of  causes  may  bo  sullied  and  disgraced  by  the 
deeds  of  its  upholders,  and  that  a  wild  and  frantic  profes- 
sion of  faith  is  not  always  a  test  of  genuine  piety.  It  is 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  necessary  to  discuss  whether 
the  royal  prerogative  was  at  that  time  arbitrarily  used,  or 
whether  the  religious  freedom  of  the  nation  was  unduly 
curtailed.  Both  points  may  be,  and  indeed  are,  admit- 
ted— for  it  is  impossible  altogether  to  vindicate  the  policy 
of  the  measures  adopted  by  the  two  last  monarchs  of  the 
house  of  Stuart;  but  neither  admission  will  clear  the 
Covenanters  from  the  stain  of  deliberate  cruelty. 

After  the  battle  of  Philiphaugh,  the  royalist  prisoners 
were  butchered  in  cold  blood,  under  the  superintendence 
of  a  clerical  emissary,  who  stood  by  rubbing  his  hands, 
and  exclaiming — "  The  wark  gangs  bonnily  on  I"  Were 
I  to  transcribe,  from  the  pamphlets  before  me,  the  list  of 
the  murders  which  were  perpetrated  by  the  country 
people  on  the  soldiery,  oflScers,  and  gentlemen  of  loyal 
principles,  during  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  I  believe  that 
no  candid  person  would  be  surprised  at  the  severe  retalia- 


THE  BURIAL- MARCH  OF  DUNDEE. 


195 


tion  which  Was  mado.  It  must  be  remembered  that  the 
country  was  then  under  military  law,  und  that  the  strict- 
est orders  had  been  issued  by  the  Government  to  the 
officers  in  command  of  the  troops,  to  use  every  means 
in  their  power  for  the  effectual  repression  of  the  disturb- 
ances. The  necessity  of  such  orders  will  become  appar 
rent,  when  wo  reflect  that,  besides  the  open  actions  at 
Aird's  Moss  and  Diumclog,  the  city  of  Glasgow  was 
attacked,  and  the  royal  forces  compelled  for  a  time  to  fall 
back  upon  Stirling. 

Under  such   circumstances,    it   is   no   wonder  if  the 
soldiery  were  severe  in  their  reprisals.      Innocent  blood 
may  no  doubt  have  been  shed,  and  in  some  caaes  even 
wantonly;  for  when  rebellion  has  grown  into  civil  war 
and  the  ordinary  course  of  the  law  is  put  in  abeyance   it 
is  always  impossible  to  restrain  military  licence.     But  it 
is  most  unfair  to  lay  the  whole  odium  of  such  acts  upon 
those  who  were  in  command,  and  to  dishonour  the  fair 
name  of  gentlemen^  by  attributing  to  them  personally  the 
commission  of  deeds  of  which  they  were  absolutely  igno- 
rant.    To  this  day  the  peasantry  of  the  western  districts 
of  Scotland  entertain  the   idea  that  Claverhouse  was  a 
sort  of  fiend  in  human  shape,  tall,  muscular,  and  hideous 
in  aspect,   secured   by  infernal   spells  from   the  chance 
of  perishing  by  any  ordinary  weapon,  and  mounted  on 
a  huge  black  horse,  the  especial  gift  of  Beelzebub !  On 
this  charger  it  is  supposed  that  he  could  ride  up  preci- 
pices as  easily  as  he  could  traverse  the  level  ground — that 
he  was  constantly  accompanied  by  a  body  of  desperadoes, 
vulgarly  known  by  such  euphonious  titles  as  "  Hell's  Tarn" 
and  ''the  De'ils  Jock/'  and  that  his  whole  time  was  occu- 
pied,  day  and  night,  in  hunting  Covenanters  upon  the 

N 


196  LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

hills  I     Almost  every  rebel  who  was  taken  in  arms  and 
shot,  is  supposed  to  have  met  his  death  from  the  indivi- 
dual  pistol  of  Cluverhouse;    and  the  talcs  which,  from 
time  to  time,  have  boon  written  by  such  in-enious  persons 
R3  the   late  Mr  Gait  and   the  Ettrick   Shepherd,    have 
quietly  been  assumed  as  facts,  and  added  to  the  store  of 
our  traditionary  knowledge.     It  is  in  vain  to  hint  that 
the  chief  commanders  of  the  forces  in   Scotland  could 
have   found   little   leisure,  even  had  they  possessed  the 
tnste,  for  pursuing  single  insurgents.      Such  suggestions 
are  an  insult  to  martyrology ;  and  many  a  parish  of  the 
west  would  be  indignant  were  it  averred  tliat  the  tenant 
of  its  grey  stone  had  suffered  by  a  meaner  hand. 

When    we   look   at   the  portrait  of  Cluverhouse,  and 
survey  tho  calm,  melancholy,  and  beautiful  features  of 
the    devoted    soldier,    it   appears   almost  incredible  that 
he  should  have  provoked  so  much  calumny  and  misrepre- 
sontaticn.     But  when— discarding  modern  historians,  who 
in  too  many  instances  do  not  seem  to  entertain  the  slight- 
est scruple  in  dealing  with  the  memory  of  the  dead  ^ 
—we  turn   to   the  writings  of  his  contemporaries,  who 
knew  the  man,  his  character  appears  iu  a  very  different 
light.     They  describe  him  as  one  who  was  stainless  in  his 
honour,  pure  in  his  faith,  wise  in   council,    resolute  in 
action,  and  utterly  free  from  that  selfishness  which  dis- 
graced many  of  the  Scottish  statesmen  of  the  time      No 
ooe  dares  question  his  loyalty,  for  he  sealed  that  confes- 
sion with  his  blood ;  and  it  is  universally  admitted  that 
with  him  fell  the  last  hopes  of  the  reinstatement  of  the 
house  of  Stuart. 

*  yi(^e  Appendix. 


TBB  nVRIAL-MARcn  OF  DUNDEE.  197 

I  ma,  perhapi  bo  permitted  here,  in  the  ab«>noe  of  a 
better  chronielcr,  to  mention  a  few  purtieulars  of  his  life 
Which,    I    behove,   are   oomp..rutivcly   unknown.      John 
Grahame  of  Claverhouse   w.«   a  cadet  of  the  family  of 
Fmtrie    conneeted  by  intermarri„ge  with  the  blood-royal 
of  Scotland.     After  completing  hi«  studies  at  the  Univer- 
«ty  of  St.  Andrew,,  he  entered,  a,  waa  the  national  eu,- 
torn  for  gentlemen  of  good  birth  and  limited  means,  into 
forcgn  service  ;  served  some  time  in  France  as  ^volunteer, 
and  afterwards  went  to  Holland.     He  very  .,oo^reeeived  a 
comn„ss,on    as  a  cornet   in  a  regiment  of  horse-guards 
from  the  P„„ee  of  Orange,  nephew  of  Ch     es  II   and 

Mary.     His  manner  at  that  time  is  thus  described  — "  He 
was  then  ane  esquire,  under  the  title  of  John  Grahame  of 
Claverhousc.;  but  the  vivacity  of  his  parts,  and  the  deli- 
cacy  and  justice   of   his   understanding  and    iud.-ment 
jomed  with  a  certain  vigour  of  mind  and  activity  of  body 
d.stmgu.shed  him  in  such  a  manner  from  all  others  of  h^s 
rank,  that  though  he  lived  in  a  superior  character,  yet 
he    acqu^ed  the   love    and  esteem   of  all   his  equals  as 
well  as  of  those  who  had  the  advantage  of  him  in  d.-nitv 
and  estate."  >"o""; 

By  one  of  those  singular  accidents  which  we  occasionally 
meet  with  m  history,  Grahame,  afterwards  destined  to 
become  his  most  formidable  opponent,  saved  the  life  of  the 
i-rince  of  Orange  at  the  battle  of  St  Neff.  The  Prince's 
torse  had  been  killed,  and  he  himself  was  in  the  grasp  of 
the  enemy,  when  the  young  cornet  rode  to  his  rescue, 
freed  him  from  his  assailants,  and  mounted  him  on  hi 
own  steed.     For  thU  service  ho  received  a  captain's  com- 


198 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


But,  even  in  early  life,  William  of  Orange  was  not' 
famous  for  keeping  his  promises.  Some  years  afterwards 
a  vacancy  in  one  of  the  Scottish  Regiments  in  the  Prince's 
service  occurred,  and  Claverhouse,  relying  upon  the  pre- 
vious assurance,  preferred  his  claim.  It  was  disregarded, 
and  Mr  Collier,  afterwarda  Earl  of  Portmore,  was  appoint- 
ed over  his  head.  It  would  seem  that  Grahame  had 
suspected  some  foul  play  on  the  part  of  this  gentleman, 
for,  shortly  after,  they  accidentally  met  and  had  an  angry 
altercation.  This  circumstance  having  come  to  the  ears 
of  the  Prince,  he  sent  tor  Captain  Grahame,  and  adminis- 
tered a  sharp  rebuke.  I  give  the  remainder  of  this 
inci<^eut  in  the  words  of  the  old  writer,  because  it  must 
be  considered  a  very  remarkable  one,  as  illustrating  the 
fiery  spirit  and  dauntless  independence  of  Claverhouse. 

"  The  Captain  answered,  that  he  was  indeed  in  the 
wrong,  since  it  was  more  his  Highness's  business  to  have 
resented  that  quarrel  than  his;  because  Mr  Collier  had 
less  injured  him  in  disappointing  him  of  the  regiment, 
than  he  had  done  his  Highness  iii  making  him  break  his 
woid.  *  Then,'  replied  the  Prince  in  an  angry  tone,  '  I 
make  you  full  reparation ;  for  I  bestow  on  you  what  is 
more  valuable  than  a  regiment,  when  I  give  you  your 
right  arm !  '  The  Cuptain  subjoined,  that  i-ince  his 
Highness  had  the  goodness  to  give  him  his  liberty,  he 
resolved  to  employ  himself  elsewhere,  for  he  would  not 
lougor  serve  a  Prince  that  had  broken  his  word. 

"  The  Captain,  having  thus  thrown  up  his  comnission, 
was  preparing  in  haste  for  his  voyage,  when  a  messenger 
arrived  from  the  Prince,  with  two  hundred  guineas  for 
the  horse  on  which  he  had  saved  his  life.  The  Captain 
sent  the  horse,  but  he  ordered  the  s-old  to  be  distributed 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE. 


199 


he 
not 


among  the  grooms  of  the  Prince's  stables.  It  is  said, 
however,  that  his  Highness  had  the  generosity  to  write  to 
the  King  and  the  Duke,  recommending  him  as  a  fine 
gentleman  and  a  brave  officer,  fit  for  any  office,  civil  or 
iiuilitary."  * 

On  his  ai'rival  in  Britain  he  was  well  received  by  the 
Court,  and  immediately  appointed  to  a  high  military  com- 
mand in  Scotland.  It  would  be  beyond  the  scope  of  the 
present  paper  to  enter  minu^^ly  into  the  details  of  his 
service  during  the  stormy  period  when  Scotland  was  cer- 
tainly misgoverned  and  when  there  was  little  unity,  but 
much  disorder  in  the  land.  In  whatever  point  of  view 
we  regard  the  history  of  those  times,  the  aspect  is  a  mourn- 
ful one  indeed.  Church  and  St  ite  never  was  a  popular 
cry  in  Scotland ;  and  the  peculiar  religious  tendencies 
which  had  been  exhibited  by  a  large  portion  of  the  nation, 
at  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  rendered  the  return  of 
tranquillity  hopeless,  until  the  hierarchy  was  displaced, 
and  a  humbler  form  of  church  government,  more  suited 
to  the  feelings  of  the  people,  substituted  in  its  stead. 

Three  years  after  the  accession  of  James  VII.,  Claver- 
house  was  raised  to  the  peerage,  by  the  title  of  Lord 
Viscount  of  Dundee.  He  was  major-general  and  second 
in  command  of  the  rcyal  forces,  when  the  Prince  of  Orange 
landed ;  and  he  earnestly  entreated  King  James  to  be 
allowed  to  march  against  him,  offering  to  stake  his  head 
on  the  successml  result  of  the  enterprise.  There  can  be 
little  doubt,  from  the  great  popularity  of  Lord  Dundee 
with  the  army,  that,  had  such  consent  been  given,  William 
would  have  found  more  than  a  match  in  his  old  officer ; 


I 


•  Memoirs  of  the  Lord  Vuscount  of  Dundee.    London:  1714. 


200 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


but  the  King  seemed  absolutely  infatuated,  and  refused 
to  allow  a  drop  of  blood  to  be  shed  in  his  quarrel,  thouc^h 
the  great  bulk  of  the  population  of  England  were  clearly 
and  enthusiastically  in  his  favour.  A  modern  poet,  the 
Honourable  Geor-e  Sydney  Smythe,  has  well  illustrated 
this  event  in  the  following  spirited  lines : 

"Then  out  spake  gallant  Ciaverhouae,  and  his  soul  thrilled  wild 

and  high, 
And  he  showed  the  King  his  subjects,  and  he  prayed  him  not  to  fly. 
Oh^never  yet  was  captain  so  dauntless  as  Dundee- 
He  has  sworn  to  chase  the  Hollander  back  to  his  Zudyer-Zee  I" 

But  though  James  quitted   his   kingdom,    the   stern 
loyalty  of  Dundee  was  nothing  moved.  ^  Alone  and  with- 
out escort  he  traversed  England,  »nd  presented  himself  at 
the  Convention  of  Estates,  then  assembled  at  Edinburgh 
for  the  purpose  of  receiving  the  message  from  the  Prince 
of  Orange.     The  meeting  was  a  very  strange  one.     Many 
of  the  nobility  and  former  members  of  the  Scottish  Par- 
liament had  absolutely  declined  attending  it,— some  on 
the  ground  that  it  was  not  a  legal  assembly,  having  been 
summoned  by  the  Prince  of  Orange ;  and  others  be^cause, 
m  such  a  total  disruption  of  order,  they  judged  it  safest 
to  abstain  from  taking  any  prominent  part.     This  gave 
an    immense   ascendancy  to  the  Revolution  party,  who 
further  proceeded  to  strengthen  their  position  by  inviting 
to  Edinburgh  large  bodies  of  the  armed   population  of 
the  west.     After  defending  for  several  days  the  cause  of 
his  master,  with  as  much  eloquence  as  vigour,  Dundee, 
finding  that  the  majority  of  the  Convention  were  resolved 
to  offer  tb3  crown  of  Scotland  to  the  Prince,  and  having 
moreover  received  sure  information  that  some  of  the  wild 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE. 


201 


frantic   Whigs,  with   Daniel   Ker  of  Kersland  at  their 
head,    had  formed  a  plot  for  his  assassination,   quitted 
Edinburgh  with  about  fifty  horsemen,  and,  after  a  short 
interview— celebrated  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  one  of  his 
grandest  ballads— with  the  Duke  of  Gordon  at  the  Castle 
rock,  directed  his  steps  towards  the  north.     After  a  short 
stay  at  his  house  of  Dudhope,  during  which  he  received, 
by  order  of  the  Council,  who  were  thoroughly  alarmed  at 
his  absence,  a  summons  through  a  Lyon-herald  to  return 
to  Edinburgh  under  pain  of  high  treason,  he  passed  into 
the  Gordon  country,  where  he  was  joined  by  the  Earl  of 
Dunfermline  with  a  small  party  of  about   sixty   horse. 
His  retreat  was  timeous,  for  General  Mackay,  who  com- 
manded  for   the    Prince   of  Orange,    had  despatched  a 
strong  force,    with   instructions   to   make  him  prisoner. 
From  this  time,  until  the  day  of  his  death,  he  allowed 
himself  no  repose.     Imitating  the  example,  and  inheriting 
the  enthusiasm  of  his  great  predecessor  Montrose,  he  in- 
voked the  loyalty  of  the  clans  to  assist  him  in  the  struggle 
for  legitimacy,— and  he  did  not  appeal  to  them  in  vain. 
His  name  was  a  spell  to  rouse  the  ardent  spirits  of  the 
mountaineers;  and  not  the  Great  Marquess  himself,  in 
the  height  of  his  renown,  was  more  sincerely  welcomed 
and  more  fondly  loved  than  "Ian  dhu  nan  Cath,"— dark 
John  of  the  Battles, — the  name  by  which  Lord  Dundee 
is  still  remembered  in  Highland  song.     In  the  mean  time 
the  Convention,  terrified  at  their  danger,  and  dreading  a 
Highland    inroad,    had   despatched   Mackay,  a   military 
officer  of  great  experience,  with  a  considerable  body  of 
troops,  to  quell  the  threatened  insurrection.     He  was  en- 
countered bv  Dundee,  and  nnmnpllprl  fn  nv^onnotQ  +1,/^  i^.'^i, 
country  and  fall  back  upon  the  Lowlands,  where  he  sub- 


202 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


Bequently  received  reinforcements,  and  again  marched 
northward.  The  Highland  host  was  assembled  at  Blair, 
though  not  in  great  force,  when  the  news  of  Mackay's 
advance  arrived  ;  and  a  council  of  the  chiefs  and  officers 
was  summoned,  to  determine  whether  it  would  be  most 
advisable  to  fall  back  upon  the  glens  and  wild  fastnesses 
of  the  Highlands,  or  to  meet  the  enemy  at  once,  though 
with  a  far  inferior  force. 

Most  of  the  old  officers,  who  had  been  trained  in  the 
foreign  wars,  were  of  the  former  opinion—"  alleging  that 
it  was  neither  prudent  nor  cautious  to  risk  an  engagement 
against  an  army  of  disciplined  men,  that  exceeded  theirs 
in  number  by  more  than  a  half."     But  both  Glengarry 
and  Locheill,  to  the  great  satisfaction    of  the   General, 
maintained  the  contrary  view,  and   argued  that  neither 
hunger  nor  fatigue  were  so  likely  to  depress  the  High- 
landers as  a  retreat  when  the  enemy  was  in  view.    The 
account  of  the  discussion  is  so  interesting,  and  so  charac- 
teristic of  Dundee,  that  I   shall  take  leave  to  quote  its 
termination  in  the  words  of  Drummond  of  Balhaldy  :— 

"An  advice  so  hardy  and  resolute  could  not  miss  to 
please  the  generous  Dundee.  His  looks  seemed  to  heighten 
with  an  air  of  delight  and  satisfaction  all  the  while  Loch- 
eill was  speaking.  He  told  his  council  that  they  had 
heard  his  sentiments  from  the  mouth  of  a  person  who  had 
formed  his  judgment  upon  infallible  proofs  drawn  from  a 
long  experience,  and  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
persons  and  subject  he  spoke  of  Not  one  in  the  company 
offering  to  contradict  their  general,  it  was  unanimously' 
agreed  to  fight. 

"  When   the  news  of  this  vigorous  resolution   spread 
through  the  army,  not.hino-  waa  Vipo^ri  k,,^.  „^^i„„_xr,_  ,     n 


THE  BURIAL-MARGH  OF  DUNDEE. 


203 


joy,  which  exceedingly  pleased  their  gallant  general ;  but 
before  the  council  broke  up,  Locheill  begged  to  be  heard 
for  a  few  words.     '  My  Lord,'  said  he,  'I  have  just  now 
declared,  in   presence  of  this  honourable  company,  that  I 
was  resolved  to  give  an  implicit  obedience  to  all  your  Lord- 
ship's commands;  but  I  humbly  beg  leave,  in  name  of 
these  gentlemen,  to  give  the  word  of  command  for  this  one 
time.     It  is  the  voice  of  your  council,  and  their  orders 
are  that  you  do  not  engage  personally.     Your  Lordship's 
business  is  to  have  an  eye  on  all  parts,  and  to  issue  out 
your  commands  as  you  shall  think  proper;  it  is  ours  to 
execute  them  with  promptitude  and  courage.     On  your 
Lordship  depends  the  fate,  not  only  of  this  little  brave 
army,  but  also  of  our  King  and  country.     If  your  Lord- 
ship deny  us  this  reasonable  demand,  for  my  own  part  I 
declare,  that  neither  I,  nor  any  I  am  concerned  in,  shall 
draw  a  sword  on  this  important  occasion,  whatever  con- 
struction shall  be  put  upon  the  matter.' 

"  Locheill  was  seconded  in  this  by  the  whole  council;  but 
Dundee  begged  leave  to  be  heard  in  his  turn.     '  Gentle- 
men,' said  he,  'as  I  am  absolutely  convinced,  and  have  had 
repeated  proofs,  of  your  zeal  for  the  King's  service,  ana 
of  your  aflFection  to  me  as  his  general  and  your  friend,  so  I 
am  fully  sensible   that  my  engaging  personally  this  day 
may  be  of  some  loss  if  I  shall  chance  to  be  killed.     But  I 
beg  leave  of  you,  however,  to  allow  me  to  give  one  %hear 
darg  (that  is,  one  harvest-day's  work)  to  the  King,  my 
master,  that  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of  convincing  the 
brave  cla  j^  ^hat  I  can  hazard  my  life  in  that  service  as  freely 
as  the  meanest  of  them.     Ye  know  their  temper,  gentlemen ; 
and  if  they  do  not  think  I  have  personal  courage  enough! 
they  wiU  not  esteem  me  hereafter,  nor  obey  my  commands 


204         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

with  cheerfulness.  Allow  me  this  single  favour,  and  I 
here  promise,  upon  my  honour,  never  again  to  risk  my 
person  while  I  have  that  of  comm  inding  you.' 

"The  council,  finding  him  inflexible,  broke  up,  and 
the  army  marched  directly  towards  the  Pass  of  Killie- 
crankie." 

Those  who  have  visited  that  romantic  spot  need  not  be 
reminded  of  its  peculiar  features,  for  these,  once  seen, 
must  dwell  for  ever  in  the  memory.  The  lower  part  of 
the  Pass  is  a  stupendous  mountain-chasm,  scooped  out 
by  the  waters  of  the  Garry,  which  here  descend  in  a  suc- 
cession of  roaring  cataracts  and  pools.  The  old  road 
which  ran  almost  parallel  to  the  river  and  close  upon  its 
edge,  was  extremely  narrow,  and  wound  its  way  beneath 
a  wall  of  enormous  crags,  surmounted  by  a  natural  forest 
of  birch,  oak,  and  pine.  An  army  cooped  up  in  that 
gloomy  ravine  would  have  as  little  chance  of  escape  from 
the  onset  of  an  enterprising  partisan  corps,  as  had  the 
Bavarian  troops  when  attacked  by  the  Tyrolese  in  the 
steep  defiles  of  the  Inn.  General  Mackay,  however,  had 
made  his  arrangements  with  consummate  tact  and  skill, 
and  had  calculated  his  time  so  well,  that  he  was  enabled 
to  clear  the  Pass  before  the  Highlanders  could  reach  it 
from  the  other  side.  Advancing  upwards,  the  passage 
becomes  gradually  broader,  until,  just  below  the  House 
of  Urrard,  there  is  a  considerable  width  of  meadow-land. 
It  was  here  that  Mackay  took  up  his  position,  and  arrayed 
his  troops,  on  observing  that  the  heights  above  were  occu- 
pied by  the  army  of  Dundee. 

The  forces  of  the  latter  scarcely  amounted  to  one- 
third  of  those  of  his  antagonist,  which  were  drawn  up  in 
axixv,  TTxuavuw  anjr  iCDCi\e.     jj.u  wub  thereiore  compelled 


11 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE. 


205 


in  making  his  disposit'ions,  to  leave  considerable  gaps  in 
his  own  line,  which  gave  Mackay  a  furtlier  advantage. 
The  right  of  Dundee's  army  was  formed  of  the  M'Lean, 
Glengarry,  and  Clanraniild  regiments,  along   with  some 
Irish  levies.     In  the  centre  was  Dundee  himself,  at  the 
head  of  a  small  and  ill  equipped  body  of  cavalry,  com- 
posed   of  Lowland   gentlemen   and  their  followers,  and 
about  forty  of  his  old  troopers.      The    Oamerons   and 
Skyemen,  under  the  command  of  Looheil!  and  Sir  Donald 
Macdonald  of  Sleat,  were  stationed  on  the  left.     During 
the  time  occupied  by  these  dispositions,  a  brisk  cannonade 
was   opened    by    Mackay's    artillery,    which    materially 
increased  the  impatience  of  the  Highlanders  to  come  to 
close  quarters.     At  last  the  word  was  given  to  advance, 
and  the  whole  line  rushed  forward  with  the  terrific  impe- 
tuosity peculiar  to  a  charge  of  the  clans.     They  received 
the  fire  of  the  regular  troops  without  flinching,  reserved 
their  own   until   they  were  close  at  hand,  poured  in  a 
murderous  volley,  and  then,  throwing  away  their  firelocks, 
attacked  the  enemy  with  the  broadsword. 

The  victory  was  almost  instantaneous,  but  it  was 
bought  at  a  terrible  price.  Through  some  mistake  or 
misunderstanding,  a  portion  of  the  cavalry,  instead  of  fol- 
lowing their  general,  who  had  charged  directly  for  the 
guns,  executed  a  manoeuvre  which  threw  them  into  disor- 
der ;  and  when  last  seen  in  the  battle,  Dundee,  accompa- 
nied only  by  the  Earl  of  Dunfermline  and  about  sixteen 
gentlemen,  was  entering  into  the  cloud  of  smoke,  standing 
up  in  his  stirrups,  and  waving  to  the  others  to  come  on. 
It  was  in  this  attitude  that  he  appears  to  have  received 
his  death-wound.  On  returning  from  the  pursuit,  the 
Highlanders  found  him  dying  on  the  field. 


I 

i 


206         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  point  out  another  instance  in 
which  the  maintenance  of  a  great  cause  depended  solely 
npon  the  life  of  a  single  man.  Whilst  Dundee  survived, 
Scotland  at  least  was  not  lost  to  the  Stuarts,  for,  shortly 
before  the  battle,  he  had  received  assurance  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  organized  troops  in  the  north  were 
devoted  to  his  person,  and  ready  to  join  him;  and  the 
victory  of  Killiecrankie  would  have  been  followed  by 
a  general  rising  of  the  loyal  gentlemen  in  the  Lowlands. 
But  with  his  fall  the  enterprise  was  over. 

I  »hope  I  shall  not  be  accused  of  exaggerating  the 
importance  of  this  battle,  which,  according  to  the 
writer  I  have  already  quoted,  was  best  proved  by  the 
consternation  into  which  the  opposite  party  were  thrown 
at  the  first  news  of  Mackay's  defeat.  "  The  Duke  of 
Hamilton,  commissioner  for  the  parliamant  which  then 
sat  at  Edinburgh,  and  the  rest  of  the  ministry,  were 
struck  with  such  a  panic,  that  some  of  them  were  for 
retiring  into  England,  others  into  the  western  shires  of 
Scotland,  where  all  the  people,  almost  to  a  man,  befriended 
them;  nor  knew  they  whether  to  abandon  the  govern- 
ment, or  to  stay  a  few  days  until  they  saw  what  use  my 
Lord  Dundee  would  make  of  his  victory.  They  knew 
the  rapidity  of  his  motions,  and  were  convinced  that 
he  would  allow  them  no  time  to  deliberate.  On  this 
account  it  was  debated,  whether  such  of  the  nobility  and 
gentry  as  were  confined  for  adhering  to  their  old  master, 
should  be  immediately  set  at  liberty  or  more  closely  shut 
up;  and  though  the  last  was  determined  on,  yet  the 
greatest  revolutionists  among  them  made  private  and  fre- 
quent visits  to  these  prisoners,  excusing  what  was  past, 
froin  a  fatai  neecssity  of  the  timeB,  which  obliged  them 


THE  BUKIAL-MARCII  OF  DUNDEE. 


207 


to  give  a  seeming  compliance,  but  protesting  that  they 
always  wished  well  to  King  James,  as  they  should  soon 
have  occasion  to  show  when  my  Lord  Dundee  advanced." 
"The  next  morning  after  the  battle,"  says  Drummond, 
"  the  Highland  army  had  more  the  air  of  the  shattered 
remains  of  b/oken  troops  than  of  conquerors ;  for  here  it 
was  literally  true  that 

*  The  vanquished  triumphed,  and  the  victors  mourned.' 

The  death  of  their  brave  general,  and  the  loss  of  so  many 
of  their  friends,  were  inexhaustible  fountains  of  grief 
and  sorrow.  They  closed  the  last  scene  of  this  mournful 
tragedy  in  obsequies  of  their  lamented  general,  and  of  the 
other  gentlemen  who  fell  with  him,  and  interred  them  in 
the  church  of  Blair  of  Atholl  with  a  real  funeral  solem- 
nity, there  not  being  present  one  single  person  who 
did  not  participate  in  the  general  affliction." 

I  close  this  notice  of  a  great  soldier  and  devoted  loyal- 
ist, by  transcribing  the  beautiful  epitaph  composed  by  Dr. 
Pitcairn : — 

"Ultime  Scotorum,  potuit  quo  sospite  solo 
Libertas  patriae  salva  fuisse  tuae : 
Te  moriente,  novos  accepit  Scotia  civea, 
AccepitquG  novos,  te  moriente,  deos. 
Ilia  tibi  superesse  aegat :  tu  non  potes  1111  : 
Ergo  Oaledoniae  nomen  inane  vale : 
-    Tuque  vale,  gentis  priscae  fortissime  ductor, 
Optime  Scotorum  atque  ultime — Grame,  vale  I " 


THE  BUMAL-MAECH  OF  DUNDEE. 


\  I. 

Sound  the  fife,  and  cry  the  slogan — 

Let  the  pibroch  shake  the  air 
With  its  wild  triumphal  music, 

Worthy  of  the  freight  we  bear. 
Let  the  ancient  hills  of  Scotland 

Hear  once  more  the  battle-song 
Swell  within  their  glens  and  valleya 

As  the  clansmen  march  along  1 
Never  from  the  field  of  combat, 

Never  from  the  deadly  fray, 
Was  a  nobler  trophy  carried 

Than  we  bring  with  us  to-day — 
Never,  since  the  valiant  Douglas 

On  his  dauntless  bosom  bore 
Good  King  Robert's  heart — the  priceless— 

To  our  dear  Redeemer's  shore  I 
Lo !  we  bring  with  us  the  hero — 

Lo  I  we  bring  the  conquering  Graeme, 
Crowned  as  best  beseems  a  victor 

From  the  altar  of  his  fame ; 


THE  BURIAL-MARC II  OF  DUNDEE. 


209 


Fresh  and  bleeding  from  the  battle 

Whence  his  spirit  took  its  flight, 
Midst  the  crashing  charge  of  squadrons, 

And  the  thunder  of  the  fight  I 
Strilce,  I  say,  the  notes  of  triumph, 

As  we  march  o'er  moor  and  lea  I 
Is  there  any  here  will  venture 

To  bewail  our  dead  Dundee? 
Let  the  widows  of  the  traitors 

Weep  until  their  eyes  are  dim  I 
Wail  ye  may  full  well  for  Scotland— 

Let  none  dare  to  mourn  for  him  1 
See  I  above  his  glorious  body 

Lies  the  royal  banner's  fold- 
See  I  his  valiant  blood  is  mingled— 

With  its  crimson  and  its  gold — 
See  how  calm  he  looks,  and  stately, 

Like  a  warrior  on  his  shield. 
Waiting  till  the  flush  of  morning 

Breaks  along  the  battle-fieldl 
See — Oh  never  more,  my  comrades, 

Sball  we  see  that  falcon  eye 
Redden  with  its  inward  lightning, 
As  the  hour  of  fight  drew  nigh 
Never  shall  we  hear  the  voice  that. 

Clearer  than  the  trumpet's  call, 
Bade  us  strike  for  King  and  Country, 
Bade  us  win  the  field,  or  fall  1 

II. 

On  the  heights  of  Killiecrankie 

Yester-morn  our  army  lay : 
Slowly  rose  the  mist  in  columns 

From  the  fivers  broken  way ; 


.■ 


210         LAVS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS, 


\ 


n«)iirscly  roared  the  swollen  torrent, 

And  the  I'adei  was  wrapt  in  glue  .], 
When  the  chinsuion  ruse  together 

From  their  hiir  HniiiLst  the  hrootn. 
Then  w»'  belled  on  our  tartuns, 

And  our  bonnets  down  wo  drew, 
And  wo  felt  our  brouddwordd'  edges, 

And  we  proved  iheni  to  be  true  ; 
And  we  prayed  the  prayer  of  uoldicrs, 

And  we  cried  the  gathering-cry, 
And  we  clasped  tlie  hands  of  kinsmen. 

And  we  swore  to  do  or  die 
Then  our  leader  rode  before  us 

On  hi*  war-horse  black  as  night- 
Well  the  Uameronian  rebels 

Knew  that  charger  in  the  fight  1 — 
And  a  cry  of  exultation 

From  the  bearded  warriors  rose  ; 
For  wo  loved  the  house  of  Claver'so, 

And  we  thought  of  good  Montrose. 
But  he  raised  his  hand  for  silence — 

"  Soldiers  I  I  have  sworn  a  vow : 
Ere  the  evening  star  shall  glisten 

On  Schehallion's  lof'y  brow, 
Either  we  shall  rest  in  triumph, 

Or  another  of  the  Grtemes 
Shall  have  died  in  battie-ham-.-ss 

For  his  Country  and  King  James  I 
Think  upon  the  Royal  Martyr — 

Think  of  what  his  race  endure — 
Think  of  him  whom  butchers  murdered 

On  the  field  of  Magus  Muir : — 


THE  BURIAL-MAROU  OF  DUNDEE^  21 1 

By  hill  HRcred  blood  I  charge  yo, 

By  the  ruim-d  henrth  and  ahrino— 
By  tho  blighted  hopes  olHcotlaud, 

By  your  liijuries  and  mine— 
Strike  this  day  aa  if  the  anvil 

Lay  beneath  your  blows  the  while, 
Be  they  covenanting  troitors, 

Or  the  brood  of  false  Argylel 
Strike  I  and  drive  the  trembling  rf  bcla 

Backwards  o'er  the  stormy  Forth  ; 
Let  them  tell  their  pale  Convention 
How  they  fared  within  tho  North. 
Let  them  tell  that  Highland  honour 

Is  not  to  bo  bought  uor  sold, 
That  wo  scora  their  prince's  anger   • 

As  we  loathe  his  foreign  gold. 
Strike!  and  when  the  fight  is  over. 

If  ye  look  in  vain  for  me, 
Where  the  dead  are  lying  thickest, 
Search  for  him  that  was  Dundee  I " 

III. 

Loudly  then  the  hills  re-echoed 

With  our  answer  to  his  call, 
But  a  deeper  echo  sounded 

In  the  bosoms  of  us  all. 
For  the  lands  of  wide  Breadalbane, 

Not  a  man  who  heard  him  speak 
Would  that  day  have  left  the  battle. 

Burning  eye  and  flushing  cheek 
Told  the  clansmen's  fierce  emotion, 

And  they  harder  drew  their  breath ; 
their  souls  were  strong  within  them, 

Stronger  than  the  grasp  of  death. 


f\ 


212 


LAF;S  OF  TEE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS 


\ 


Soon  we  heard  a  challenge-trumpet 

Sounding  in  the  Pass  below, 
And  the  distant  tramp  of  horses, 

A.nd  the  voices  of  the  foe : 
Down  we  crouched  amid  the  bracken. 

Till  the  Lowland  rauks  drew  near, 
Panting  like  thf  hounds  in  summer. 

When  they  scent  the  stately  deer. 
From  tht  dark  defile  emerging, 

Next  we  saw  the  squadrons  come, 
Leslie's  foot  and  Leven's  troopers 

Marching  to  the  tuck  of  drum ; 
Through  the  scattered  wood  of  birches. 

O'er  the  broken  ground  and  heath, 
Wound  the  long  battalion  slowly, 

Till  they  gained  the  plain  beneath ; 
Then  we  bounded  from  our  covert. — 

Judge  how  looked  the  Saxons  then. 
When  they  saw  the  rugged  mountain 

Start  to  life  with  arm^d  men  1 
Like  a  tempest  down  the  ridges 

Swept  the  hurricane  of  steel, 
Rose  the  slogan  of  Macdonald — 

Flashed  the  broadsword  of  Locheill  1 
Vainly  sped  the  withering  volley 

'Mongst  the  foremost  of  our  band — 
On  we  poured  until  we  met  them, 

Foot  to  foot,  and  hand  to  hand. 
Horse  and  man  went  down  like  drift-wood 

When  the  floods  are  black  at  Yule, 
And  their  carcasses  are  whirling 

In  the  Garry's  deepest  pool. 


■ 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE.  213 

Horse  and  man  went  down  before  us— 

Living  foe  there  tarried  none 
On  the  field  of  Killiecrankie, 

When  that  stubborn  fight  was  done  I 


•' 


IV. 

And  the  evening  star  was  shining 

On  Schehallion's  distant  head, 
When  we  wiped  our  bloody  broads  ivords 

And  returned  to  count  the  dead. 
There  we  found  him  gashed  and  gory, 

Stretched  upon  the  cumbered  plain, 
As  he  told  us  where  to  seek  him, 

In  the  thickest  of  the  slain. 
And  a  smile  was  on  his  visage, 

For  within  his  dying  ear 
Pealed  the  joyful  note  of  triumph. 

And  the  clansmen's  clamorous  cheer : 
So,  amidst  the  battle's  thunder. 

Shot,  and  steel,  and  scorching  flame 
In  the  glory  of  his  manhood 

Passed  the  spirit  of  the  Grame  I 


V. 

Open  wide  the  vaults  of  Atholl, 

Where  the  bones  of  heroes  rest- 
Open  wide  the  hallowed  portals 

To  receive  another  guest  I 
Last  of  Scots,  and  last  of  freemen- 
Last  of  all  that  dauntless  rac«, 
vthu  TTuuiu  liiLuur  uic  unsuiliea 
Than  outlive  the  L    ^,'s  disgrace ! 


214 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS, 


0  thou  lion-hearted  warrior  1 

Reck  not  of  the  after- time  : 
Honour  may  be  deemed  dishonour, 

Loyalty  be  called  a  crime. 
Sleep  in  peace  with  kindred  ashes 

Of  the  noble  and  the  true, 
Hands  that  never  failed  their  country, 

Hearts  that  never  baseness  knew. 
Sleep  1 — and  till  the  latest  trumpet 

Wakes  the  dead  from  earth  and  sea, 
Scotland  shall  not  boast  a  braver 

Chieftain  than  our  own  Dundee  I 


'm^mm 


'] 


,. 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE. 


'f 


. 


The  Massacre  of  Glencoe  is  an  event  which  neither  can 
nor  ought  to  be  forgotten.  It  was  a  deed  of  the  worst 
treason  and  cruelty— a  barbarous  infracfon  of  all  laws, 
human  and  divine;  and  it  exhibits  in  their  foulest  perfidy 
the  true  characters  of  the  authors  and  abettors  of  the 
Revolution. 

After  the  battle  of  Killiecrankie  the  cause  of  the  Scot- 
tish royalists  declined,  rather  from  the  want  of  a  competent 
leader  than  from  any  disinclination  on  the  part  of  a  large 
section  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  to  vindicate  the  right  of 
King  James.     No  person  of  adequate  t  ilents  or  authority 
was  found  to  supply  the  place  of  the  great  and  gallant 
Lord   Dundee :    for   General  Cannon,  who   succeeded  in 
command,  was  not  only  deficient  in  military  skill,  but  did 
not  possess  the  confidence,  nor  understand  the  character  of 
the  Highland  chiefs, who,  with  their  clansmen,  constituted  by 
far  the  most  important  section  of  the  army.    Accordingly  no 
enterprise  of  any  importance  was  attempted ;  and  the  disast- 
rous issue  of  the  battle  of  the  Bovne  led  to  a  neLmtintmn  ^hini. 
terminated  in  the  entire  disbanding  of  the  royal  forces! 
By  this  treaty,  which  was  expressly  sanctioned  by  William 


216         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


I 


of  Orange,  a  full  and  unreserved  indemnity  and  pardon 
was  granted  to  all  of  the  Highlanders  who  had  taken 
arms,  with  a  proviso  that  they  should  first  subscribe  the 
oath  of  allegiance  to  William  and  Mary,  before  the  1st  of 
January  1692,  in  presence  of  the  Lords  of  the  Scottish 
Council,  "or  of  the  sheriffs  or  their  deputies  of  the  res- 
pective shires  wherein  they  lived."  The  letter  of  William 
addressed  to  the  Privy  Council,  and  ordering  proclamation 
to  be  made  to  the  above  effect,  contained  also  the  follow- 
ing signifirant  passage : — "  That  ye  communicate  our 
pleasure  to  the  Governor  of  Inverlochy,  and  other 
commanders,  that  they  be  exact  and  diligent  in  their 
several  posts ;  but  that  they  show  no  more  zeal  against  the 
Highlanders  after  their  submission,  than  they  have  ever 
done  formerly  when  these  were  in  open  rebellion.*^ 

This  enigmatical  sentence,  which  in  reality  was  intend- 
ed, as  the  sequel  will  show,  to  be  interpreted  in  the  most 
cruel  manner,  appears  to  have  caused  some  perplexity  in 
the  Council,  as  that  body  deemed  it  necessary  to  apply  for 
more  distinct  and  specific  instructions,  which,  however, 
were  not  then  issued.  It  had  been  especially  stipulated 
by  the  chiefs,  as  an  indispensable  preliminary  to  their 
treaty,  that  they  should  have  leave  to  communicate  with 
King  James,  then  residing  at  St  Germains,  for  the  purpose 
of  obtaining  his  permission  and  warrant  previous  to  sub- 
mitting themselves  to  the  existing  government.  That 
article  had  been  sanctioned  by  William  before  the  procla- 
mation was  issued,  and  a  special  messenger  was  despatched 
to  France  for  that  purpose. 

In  the  mean  time,  troops  were  gradually  and  cautiously 
advanced  to  the  confines  of  the  Highlands,  and,  in  some 
instances,  actually  quartered  on  the  inhabitants.     The  con- 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE. 


217 


dition  of  the  country  was  perfectly  tranquil.  No  disturb- 
ances whatever  occurred  in  the  north  or  west  of  Scotland  • 
Locheill  and  the  other  chiefs  were  awaiting  the  commani- 
cation  from  St  Germuins,  and  held  themselves  bound  in 
honour  to  remain  inactive ;  whilst  the  remainder  of  the 
royalist  forces  (for  whom  separate  terms  had  been  made) 
were  left  unmolested  at  Dunkeld. 

But  rumours,  which  are  too  clearly  traceable  to  the 
emissaries  of  the  new  Government,  asserting  the  prepara- 
tion made  for  an  immediate  landing  of  King  James  at  the 
head  of  a  large  body  of  the  French,  were  industriously 
circulated,  and  by  many  were  implicitly  believed.  The 
infamous  policy  which  dictated  such  a  course  is  now  appa- 
rent. The  term  of  the  amnesty  or  truce  granted  by  the 
proclamation  expired  with  the  year  1691,  and  all  who  had 
not  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance  before  that  term  were  to 
be  proceeded  against  with  the  utmost  severity.  The  pro- 
clamation was  issued  upon  the  29th  of  August :  conse- 
quently, only  four  months  were  allowed  for  the  complete 
submission  of  the  Highlands. 

Not  one  of  the  chiefs  subscribed  until  the  mandate 
from  King  James  arrived.  That  document,  which  is 
dated  from  St  Germains  on  the  12th  of  December  1691, 
reached  Dunkeld  eleven  days  afterwards,  and,  consequently, 
but  a  very  short  time  before  the  indemnity  expired.  The 
bearer.  Major  Menzies,  was  so  fiitigued  that  he  could  pro- 
ceed no  farther  on  his  journey,  but  forwarded  the  mandate 
by  an  express  to  the  commander  of  the  royal  forces,  who 
was  then  at  Glengarry.  It  was  therefore  impossible  that 
the  document  could  be  circulated  through  the  Highlands 
within  the  prescribed  period.  Locheill,  says  Drummond 
of  Balhaldy,  did  not  receive  his  copy  till  about  thirty 


218         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


hours  before  the  time  was  out,  and  appeared  before  the 
sheriff  at  InveraYa,  where  he  took  the  oaths  upon  the 
very  day  on  which  the  indemnity  expired. 

That  a  general  massacre  throughout  the  Highlands  was 
contemplated  by  the  Whig  Government  is  a  foct  estab- 
lished by  overwhelming  evidence.  In  the  course  of  the 
subsequent  investigation  before  the  Scots  Parliament, 
letters  were  produced  from  Sir  John  Dalrymple,  then 
Master  of  Stair,  one  of  the  secretaries  of  state  in  attend- 
ance upon  the  Court,  which  too  clearly  indicate  the 
intentions  of  William.  In  one  of  these,  dated  1st 
December  1691 — a  month,  be  it  observed,  before  the 
amnesty  expired — ^and  addressed  to  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Hamilton,  there  are  the  following  words  :  "  The  winter  is 
the  only  seasoa  in  which  we  are  sure  the  Highlanders 
cannot  escape  us  nor  carry  their  wives,  bairns,  and  cattle 
to  the  mountains."  And  in  another  letter,  written  only 
two  days  afterwards,  he  says,  "It  is  the  only  time  that 
they  cannot  escape  you,  for  human  constitution  cannot 
endure  to  be  long  out  of  houses.  This  is  the  proper 
season  to  maule  them  in  the  cold  long  nights. ^^  And  in 
January  thereafter,  he  informed  Sir  Thomas  Livingston 
that  the  design  was  "to  destroy  entirely  the  country  of 
Lochaber,  Locheill's  lands,  Keppoch's,  Glengarry's,  Appin, 
and  Glencoe.  I  assure  you,"  he  continues,  "  your  power 
shall  be  full  enough,  and  I  hope  the  soldiers  will  not 
trouble  the  Government  with  prisoner s.^^ 

Locheill  was  more  fortunate  than  others  of  his  friends 
and  neighbours.  According  to  Drummond, — "  Major 
Menzies,  who,  upon  his  arrival,  had  observed  the  whole 

forces  of  thp.    kino-rlnTn    rparlv  fn    invn/lA  fVia  TTioclilnnrlfl    aq 

he  wrote  to  General  Buchan,  foreseeing  the  unhappy  con- 


THE  WIDOW  OF  OLENCOE. 


219 


' 


sequences,  not  only  begged  that  general  to  send  expresses 
to  all  parts  with  orders  immediately  to  submit,  but  also 
wrote  to  Sir  Thomas  Livingston,  praying  him  to  supplicate 
the  Council  for  a  prorogation  of  the  time,  in  regard  that 
he  was  so  excessively  fatigued,  that  he  was  obliged  to  stop 
some  days  to  repose  a  little ;  and  that  though  he  should 
send  expresses,  yet  it  wais  impossible  they  could  reach  the 
distant  parts  in  such  time  as  to  allow  the  several  persons 
concerned  the  benefit  of  the  indemnity  within  the  spac^ 
limited ;  besides,  that  some  persons  having  put  the  High- 
landers in  a  bad  temper,  he  was  confident  to  persuade 
them  to  submit,  if  a  further  time  were  allowed.  Sir 
Thomas  presented  this  letter  to  the  Council  on  the  5th  of 
January  ]  692,  but  they  refused  to  give  any  answer,  and 
ordered  him  to  transmit  the  same  to  Court." 

The  reply  of  William  of  Orange  was  a  letter,  counter- 
signed by  Dalrymple,  in  which,  upon  the  recital  that 
"  several  of  the  chieftains  and  many  of  their  clans  have 
not  taken  the  benefit  of  our  gracious  indemnity,"  he  gave 
orders  for  a  general  massacre.  "  To  that  end,  we  have 
given  Sir  Thomas  Livingston  orders  to  employ  our  troops 
(which  we  have  already  conveniently  posted)  to  cut  oflF 
these  obstinate  rebels  hy  all  manner  of  hostility ;  and 
we  do  require  you  to  give  him  your  assistance  and  con- 
currence in  all  other  things  that  may  conduce  to  that 
service ;  and  because  these  rebels,  to  avoid  our  forces,  may 
draw  themselves,  their  families,  goods,  or  cattle,  to  lurk 
or  be  concealed  among  their  neighbours:  therefore  we 
require  and  authorise  you  to  emit  a  proclamation,  to  be 
published  at  the  market-crosses  of  these  or  the  adjacent 
shires  where  the  rebels  reside,  dischargiug  upon  the  iiigu- 
est  penalties  the  law  allows,  any  reset,  correspondence,  Qr 


220 


LAVS  OF  TUB  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS, 


mtercommuning  with    these    rebels."     This  monstrous 
mandate,  which  was  in  fact  .the  death  warrant  of  many 
thousand  innocent  people,  no  distinction  being  m  ide  of 
age  or  sex,  would,  in  all  human  probability,  have  been  put 
into  execution,  but  for  the  remonstrance  of  one  high-mind- 
ed  nobleman.     Lord   Carmarthen,   afterwards   Duke  of 
Leeds,  accidentally  became  aware  of  the  proposed  massacre, 
and  personally  remonstrated  with  the  monarch  against  a 
measure  which  he  denounced  as  at  once  cruel  and  impoli- 
tic.     After  much  discussion,  William,  influenced  rather 
by  an  apprehension  that  so  savage  and  sweeping  an  act 
might  prove  fatal  to  his  new  authority,  than  by  any  com- 
punction  or   impulse  of  humanity,  agreed  to  recall   the 
general  order,  and  to  limit  himself,  in  the  first  instance, 
to  a  single  deed  of  butchery,  by  way  of  testing  the  temper 
of  the  nation.     Some  difficulty  seems  to  have  arisen  in 
the  selection  of  the  fittest  victim.     Both  Keppoch   and 
Glencoo  were  named,  but  the  personal  rancour  of  Secre- 
tary  Dalrymple   decided  the  doom  of  the   latter.     The 
secretary  wrote  thus :-"  Argyle  tells   me  that   Glencoe 
hath  not  taken  the  oath,  at  which  I  rejoice.     Tt  is  a  great 
work  cf  charity  to  be  exact  in  rooting  out  that  damnable 
set.  '     The   final  instructions  regarding   Olencoe,  which 
were  issued  on  16th  January  1692,  are  as  follows:— 

"William  R.- As  for  M'lan  of  Gleneoe  and  that  tribe,  if  tliev 
can  be  well  d.stineruished  from  the  rest  of  the  Highlanders,  it  will 
be  proper  lor  public  justice  to  extirpate  that  set  of  thieves. 

W.  R." 
^  This  letter  is  remarkable  as  being  signed  and  counter- 
signed by  William  alone,  contrary  to  the  usual  practice 
The  secretary  was  no  doubt  desirous  to  screen  him^Alf 
fcom  after  responsibility,  and  was  besides  aware  that  the 


1 


THE  WIDOW  OF  OLENCOE. 


221 


1 


royal  signature  would  insure  a  rigorous  execution  of  the 
sentence. 

Macdonald,   or,  as  he  was  more   commonly  designed, 
M'lan  of  Glencoe,  was  the  head  of  a  considerable  sept  or 
branch  of  the  great  Clan-Coila,  and  was  lineally  descended 
from  the  ancient  Lords  of  the  Isles,  and  from  the  royal 
family  of  Scotland — the  common  ancestor  of  the  Macdon- 
alds  havi}^g  espoused  a  daughter  of  Robert  II.     Ho  was, 
according   to   a   contemporary  testimony,    "  a   person  of 
great  integrity,  honour,  good  nature,  and  courage;    and 
his  loyalty  to  his  old  master.  King  James,  was  such,  that 
he  continued  in  arms  from  Dundee's  first  appearing  in 
the  Highlands,  till  the  fatal  treaty  that  brought  on  his 
ruin."     In  common  with  the  other  chiefS;  he  had  omitted 
taking  the  benefit  of  the  indemnity  until  he  received  the 
sanction  of  King  James  :  but  the  copy  of  that  document 
which  was  forwarded  to  him,  unfortunately  arrived  too 
late.     The  weather  was  so  excessively  stormy  at  the  time 
that  there  was  no  possibility  of  penetrating  from  Glencoe 
to  Inverara,  the  place  where  the  sheriflF  resided,  before  the 
expiry   of  the   stated   period ;    and    Mian   accordingly 
adopted  the  only  practicable  mode  of  signifying  his  sub- 
mission, by  making  his  way  with  great  difficulty  to  Fort- 
William,  then  called  Inverlochy,  and  tendering  his  signa- 
ture to  the  military  Governor  there.     That  officer  was  not 
authorised  to  receive  it,  but,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  the 
chief,  he  gave  him  a  certificate  of  his  appearance  and  ten- 
der;  and  on  New- Year's  day,  1692,  M'lan  reached  Inve- 
rara, where  he  produced  that  paper  as  evidence  of  his 
intentions,  and  prevailed  upon  the  sherifi".  Sir  James  Camp- 
bell of  Ardkinsrlass     to  administer   the  oaths   remuired. 
After  that  ceremony,  which  was  immediately  intimated  to 


222        ZAFS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

the  Privy  Council,  had  been  performed,  the  unfortunate 
gentleman  returned  home,  in  the  full  eonvietion  that 
he  had  thereby  m.de  peace  with  Government  for  himself 
and  for  his  clan.     But  his  doom  was  already  sealed. 

A  company  of  the  Earl  of  Argyle's  regiment  had  been 
previously  quartered   at  Glencoe.      These   men,  thou^^h 
.  Campbells,  and  hereditarily  obnoxious  to  the  Macdonalds 
Camerons,  and  other  of  the  loyal  clans,  were  yet  country' 
men,   and  were   kindly  and  hospitably  received.     Their 
captam,  Robert  Campbell  of  Glenlyon,  was  connected  with 
the  family  of  Glencoe  through  the  marriage  of  a  niece 
and  was  resident  under  the  roof  of  the  chik      And  yet 
this  was  the  very  troop  selected  for  the  horrid  service. 

fcpecial  instructions  were  sent  to  the  m.jor  of  the  rcd- 
ment,  one  Duncanson,  then  quartered  at  Balhichulish-la 
morose,  brutal,  and  savage  man-who  accordingly  wrote 
to  Campbell  of  Glenlyon  in  the  following  terms  Z 

«Sm     v«„  u      ..  "Sallacholis,  12^e6.  1692. 

M'DoX  of  nTn     "'^/'''"'  '°  '''''  "P°»  *b«  -bels,  the 
Fou  ar.  t    ^  ''  ^""^  P""  ^"  t''  tb«  «^«rd  under  seventy 

you  are  to  have  special  care  that  the  old  fox  and  his  sons  doe  unon 

2::T'  ""''  '^"^  '""'^^-  ^^"  -«  '^  secure  a,  h  avenues 
oclLk  in T  ''"'"  '^'"  ^""  ^^^  ^^  P"*  '-  ^--tion  att  five 
af  r  '  ".  ?:,"!°--^J---Iy,  and  by  that  time,  or  very  shortly 
atter  it,  111  strive  to  be  att  you  with  a  stronger  party.     If  I  doe 

th!r  .K    K^'  ^^^\^^'^^  miscreants  be  cutt  off  root  and  branch    See 

xp  ct  '^  L't "  'rr^"'*^'^  withoutfeud  or  favour,  else  y  Lt; 

mTn  fitt  to  .         '^  "'  "'*  *'"'  *°  '^'  ^'"^'^  government,  nor  I 

^ou  wi^i  notT^r' T'"'"''"''^  ^°  '^^  ^^"^'«  ^«-i««-    Expecting 
you  will  not  faill  m  the  fulfilling  hereof  as  you  lore  yourself  I  sub 
scnbe  these  with  my  hand.  «  jourseii,  i  sub- 

«^or  their  Majesty^s  service,  "  ^''^^^''  ^^^anson. 

"To  Captain  Robert  Campbell  of  Glenlyon" 


TRE  WIDOW  OF  OLENCOE 


223 


, 


This  order  was  but   too   literally    obeyed.      At  the 

appointed  hour,  when  the  whole  inhabitants  of  the  glen 

were  asleep,  the  work  of  murder  began.     M'lan  wps  one 

of  the  first  who  fell.      Drummond's  narrative  fills  up  the 

.  remainder  of  the  dreadful  story. 

*'  They  then  served  all  within  the  family  in  the  same 
manner,  without  distinction  of  age  or  person.  In  a  word 
— for  the  horror  of  that  execrable  butchery  must  give 
pain  to  the  reader — they  left  none  alive  but  a  young 
child,  who  being  frightened  with  the  noise  of  the  guns, 
and  the  dismal  shrieks  and  cries  of  its  dying  parents, 
whom  they  were  a-murdering,  got  hold  of  Captain  Camp- 
bell's knees,  and  wrapt  itself  within  his  cloak  ;  by  which, 
chancing  tj  move  compassion,  the  captain  inclined  to  have 
saved  it,  but  one  Drummond,  an  ofl&cer,  arriving  about  the 
break  of  day  with  more  troops,  commanded  it  to  be  shot 
by  a  file  of  musqueteers.  Nothing  could  be  more  shock- 
ing and  horrible  than  the  prospect  of  these  houses  be- 
strewed with  mangled  bodies  of  the  de,ad,  covered  with 
blood,  and  resounding  with  the  groans  of  wretches  in  the 
last  agonies  of  life. 

"Two  sons  of  Glencoe's  were  the  only  persons  that 
escaped  in  that  quarter  of  the  country ;  for,  growing 
jealous  of  some  ill  designs  from  the  behaviour  of  the 
soldiers,  they  stole  from  their  beds  a  few  minutes  before 
the  tragedy  began,  and,  chancing  to  pverhear  two  of  them 
discoursing  plainly  of  the  matter,  they  endeavoured  to 
have  advertised  their  father ;  but  finding  that  impractica- 
ble, they  ran  to  the  other  end  of  the  country  and  alarmed 
the  inhabitants.  There  was  another  accident  that  contri- 
buted much  to  their  safety;  for  the  night  was  so  exces- 
sively stormy  and  tempestuous,  that  four  hundred  soldiers. 


224         LAVS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

who  were  appointed  to  murder  those  people,  were  stopped 
in  their  march  from  Inverlochy,  and  could  not  get  up  till 
they  had  time  to  save  themselves.  To  cover  the  deformity 
of  so  dreadful  a  sight,  the  soldiers  burned  all  the  houses 
to  the  ground,  after  having  rifled  them,  carried  away  nine 
hundred  cows,  two  hundred  horses,  numberless  herds 
of  sheep  and  goats,  and  everything  else  that  belonged 
to  these  miserable  people.  Lamentable  was  the  case'' of 
the  women  and  children  that  escaped  the  butchery :  the 
mountains  were  covered  with  a  deep  snow,  the  rivers 
impassable,  storm  and  tempest  filled  the  air,  and  added  to 
the  horrors  and  darkness  of  the  night,  and  there  were  no 
houses  to  shelter  them  within  many  miles."* 

Such  was  the  awful  massacre  of  Glencoe,  an  event 
which  has  left  an  indelible  and  execrable  stain  upon  the 
memory  of  William  of  Orange.  The  records  of  Indian 
warfare  can  hardly  afford  a  parallel  instance  of  atrocity; 
and  this  deed,  coupled  with  his  deliberate  treachery  in  the 
Darien  scheme,  whereby  Scotland  was  for  a  time  absolutely 
ruined,  is  sufficient  to  account  for  the  little  estima  ion  in 
which  the  name  of  the  ''great  Whig  deliverer"  is  still 
regarded  in  the  valleys  of  the  North. 

♦  Memoin  of  Sir  Ewen  Cameron  of  Locheill. 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE. 


I. 

Do  not  lift  him  from  the  bracken, 

Leave  him  lying  where  he  fell — 
Better  bier  ye  cannot  fashion  : 

None  beseems  him  half  so  well 
As  the  bare  and  broken  heather, 

And  the  hard  and  trampled  sod, 
Whence  his  angry  soul  ascended 

To  the  judgment-seat  of  God  1 
Winding-sheet  we  cannot  give  him — 

Seek  no  mantle  for  the  dead, 
Save  the  cold  and  spotless  covering 

Showered  from  heaven  upon  his  head. 
Leave  his  broadsword  as  we  found  it. 

Bent  and  broken  with  the  blow. 
Which,  before  he  died,  avenged  him 

On  the  foremost  of  the  foe. 
Leave  the  blood  upon  his  bosom — 

Wash  not  off  that  sacred  stain ; 
Let  it  stiffen  on  the  tartan, 

L?rt  his  wounds  UuCloscd  fCmuili, 


226         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


Till  the  day  when  he  shall  show  them 
At  the  thrune  of  God  on  high, 

When  the  murderer  and  the  murdered 
Meet  before  their  Judge's  eye  I 

II. 

Nay,  ye  should  not  weep,  my  children ! 

Leave  it  to  the  faint  and  weak ; 
Sobs  are  but  a  woman's  weapon — 

Tears  befit  a  maiden's  cheek. 
Weep  not,  children  of  Macdonald  I 
Weep  not  thou,  his  orphan  heir — 
Not  in  shame,  but  stainless  honour, 
Lies  thy  slaughtered  father  there. 
Weep  not — but  when  years  are  over, 
And  thine  arm  is  strong  and  sure, 
And  thy  foot  is  swift  and  steady 

On  the  mountain  and  the  muir — 
Let  thy  heart  be  hard  as  iron. 

And  thy  wrath  as  fierce  as  fire. 
Till  the  hour  when  vengeance  cometh 

For  the  race  that  slew  thy  sire  1 
Till  in  deep  and  dark  Glenlyon 
Rise  a  louder  shriek  of  woe. 
Than  at  midnight,  from  their  eyrie, 

Scared  the  eagles  of  Glencoe : 
Louder  than  the  screams  that  mingled 

With  the  howling  of  the  blast. 
When  the  murderer's  steel  was  clashing, 

And  the  fires  were  rising  fast ; 
When  thy  noble  father  bounded 

To  the  rescue  of  his  men. 
And  the  slogan  of  our  kindred 

Pealed  throughout  the  startled  glen  I 


THE  WIDOW  OF  QLENCOE. 


227 


When  the  herd  of  frantic  women 

Stumbled  through  the  midnight  snow, 
"With  their  fathers'  houses  blazing, 

And  their  dearest  dead  below  1 
Oh,  the  horror  of  the  tempest. 

As  the  flashing  drift  was  blown. 
Crimsoned  with  the  conflagration. 

And  the  roofs  went  thundering  down  I 
Oh,  the  prayers— tuo  prayers  and  curses 

That  together  winged  their  flight 
From  the  maddened  hearts  of  many 

Through  that  long  and  woeful  night! 
Till  the  fires  began  to  dwindle, 

And  the  shots  grew  faint  and  few, 
And  we  heard  the  foeman's  challenge 

Only  in  a  far  halloo: 
Till  the  silence  once  more  settled 

O'er  the  gorges  of  the  glen, 
Broken  only  by  the  Cona 

Plunging  through  its  naked  den. 
Slowly  from  the  mountain-summit 

Was  the  drifting  veil  withdrawn, 
And  the  ghastly  valley  glimmered 

In  the  grey  December  dawn. 
Better  had  the  morning  never 

Dawned  upon  our  dark  despair ! 
Black  amidst  the  common  whiteness 

Rose  the  spectral  ruins  there : 
But  the  sight  of  these  was  nothing 

More  than  wrings  the  wild-dove's  breast, 
When  she  searches  for  her  offspring 

Round  the  relics  of  her  nest. 


228         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


"♦ 


For  m  many  a  spot  the  tartan 

Peered  above  the  wintry  heap, 
Marking  where  a  dead  Macdonald 

Lay  within  his  frozen  sleep. 
Tremblingly  we  scooped  the  covering 

From  each  kindred  victim's  head, 
And  the  living  lips  were  burning 

On  the  cold  ones  of  the  dead. 
And  T  left  them  with  their  dearest — 

Dearest  charge  had  every  one — 
Left  the  maiden  with  her  lover, 

Left  the  mother  with  her  son. 
I  alone  of  all  was  mateless — 

Far  more  wretched  I  than  they, 
For  the  snow  would  not  discover 

Where  my  lord  and  husband  lay. 
But  I  wandered  up  the  valley, 

Till  I  found  him  lying  low. 
With  the  gash  upon  his  bosom 

And  the  frown  upon  his  brow — 
Till  I  found  him  lying  murdered, 

Where  he  wooed  me  long  ago  I 


III. 

Woman's  weakness  shall  not  shame  me— 

Why  should  I  have  tears  to  shed  ? 
Could  I  rain  them  down  like  water, 

O  my  hero  I  on  thy  head — 
Could  the  cry  of  lamentation 

Wake  thee  from  thy  silent  sleep, 
Could  it  set  thy  heart  a-throbbing, 

It  were  mine  to  wail  and  weep  1 


]. 


THE  WIDOW  OF  QLENCOE. 

But  I  will  not  waste  my  sorrow, 

Lest  the  Campbell  women  say 
That  the  daughters  of  Clanranald 

Are  as  weak  and  frail  as  they. 
I  had  wept  thee  hadst  thou  fallen, 

Like  our  fathers,  on  thy  shield. 
When  a  host  of  Engliph  foemen 

Camped  upon  a  Scottish  field— 
I  had  mourned  thee,  hadi  t  thou  perished 

With  the  foremost  of  his  name 
When  the  valiant  and  the  noble 

Died  around  the  dauntless  Graeme  | 
But  I  will  not  wrong  thee,  husband  1 

With  my  unavailing  cries, 
Whibt  thy  cold  and  mangled  body 

Stricken  by  the  traitor  lies ; 
Whilst  he  counts  the  gold  and  glory 

That  this  hideous  night  has  won 
And  his  heart  is  big  with  triumph 

At  the  murder  he  has  done. 
Other  eyes  than  mine  shall  glisten, 
"  Other  hearts  be  rent  in  twain. 
Ere  the  heathbells  on  thy  hillock 

Wither  in  the  autumn  rain 
Then  I'll  seek  thee  where  thou  sleepest 

And  I'll  veil  my  weary  head. 
Praying  io:  a  place  beside  thee, 

Dearer  than  my  bridal  bed : 
And  I'll  give  thee  tears,  my  husband  I 

If  the  tears  remain  to  me, 
When  the  widows  of  the  foeman ' 

Cry  the  coronach  for  thee  1 


229 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS. 


,i' 


In  consequence  of  a  capitulation  with  Government,  the 

regular  troops  who  had  served  under  Lord  Dundee  were 

^^^y^*^  ^Q  France  ;  and,  immediately  upon  their  landing, 

the  officers  and  others  had  their  rank  confirmed  according 

to  the  tenor  of  the  commissions  and  characters  which  they 

bore  in  Scotland.     They  were  distributed  throughout  the 

diflFerent  garrisons  in  the  north  of  France,  and,  though 

nominally  in  the  service  of  King  James,  derived  thSr 

whole  means  of  subsistence  fpom  the  bounty  of  the  French 

monarch.     So  long  as  it  appeared  probable  that  another 

descent  was  meditated,  these  gentlemen,  who  were  almost 

without  exception  men  of  considerable  family,  assented  to 

this  arrangement ;  but  the  destruction  of  the  French  fleet 

under  Admiral  Tourville,  off  La  Hogue,  led  to  a  material 

change  in  their  views.     After  that  naval  engagement  it 

became  obvious  that  the  cause  of  the  fugitive  king  was  in 

the  mean  timp.  f^psr^orafo   .j«ri  j-v,^  a^,«A^:,i,  ^m _-•-! 


,i 


1 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  231 

less  gallantry  than  honour,  volunteered  a  sacrifice  which 
so  far  as  I  know,  has  hardly  been  equalled.  ' 

The  old  and  interesting  pamphlet  written  by  one  of  the 
corps,*  from  which  I  have  extracted  most  of  the  following 
details,  but  which  is  seldom  perused  except  by  the  anti- 
quary, states   that^'^  The   Scottish   officers  considering 
that,  by  the  loss  of  the  French  fleet,  Kin^  Jamea.'s^'estora- 
tion  would  be  retarded  for  some  time,  and  that  they  were 
burdensome  to  the  King  of  France,  being  entertained  in 
garrisons  on  whole  pay,  without  doing  duty,  when  he  had 
almost  all  Europe  in  confederacy  against  him,  therefore 
humbly  entreated  King  James  to  have  them  reduced  into 
a  company  of  private  sentinels,  and  chose  officers  amongst 
themselves  to  command  them ;  assuring  his  Majesty  that 
they  would  serve  in  the  meanest  circumstances,  and  undergo 
the   greatest   hardships   and   fatigues,  that   reason  could 
imagine  or  misfortunes  inflict,  until   it   pleased  God  to 
restore  him.     King  James  commended  their  generosity 
and  loyalty,  but  disapproved  of  what  they  proposed,  and 
told  them  it  was  impossible  that  gentlemen,  who  had  served 
in  so  honourable  posts  as  formerly  they  had  enjoyed,  and 
lived  in  so  great  plenty  and  ease,  could  ever  undergo  the 
fatigue  and  hardships  of  private  sentinels'  duty.     Again, 
that  his  own  first  command  was  a  company   of  officers 
whereof  several  died ;  others,  wearied  with  fatigue,  drew 
their  discharges ;  till  at  last  it  dwindled  into  nothino-  and 
lie  got  no  reputation  by  the  command  j  therefore  he  desired 
them  to  insist  no  more  on  that  project.    The  officers  (not- 
withstanding his  Majesty's  desire  to  the  contrary)  made 
several  interests  at  court,  and  harassed  him  so  much,  that 

*  An  Account  of  Dundee' i  Officers  after  they  went  to  France,   By  an 
officer  of  the  Army.    London:  1714. 


232         LAFS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

at  last' he  condescended,"  and  appointed  those  who  were  to 
command  them. 

Shortly  afterwards,  the  new  corps  was  reviewed  for  the 
first  and  last  time  by  the  unfortunate  James  in  the  gardens 
of  St  Germains,  and  a-  ^  »  ars  are  said  to  have  gushed 
from  his  eyes  at  the  sig  .  ,i  so  many  brave  men,  reduced, 
through  their  disinterested  and  persevering  loyalty,  to  so 
very  humble  a  condition.  "Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "my 
own  misforttines  are  not  so  nigh  my  heart  as  yours.  It 
grieves  me  beyond  what  I  can  express,  to  see  so  many 
brave  and  worthy  gentlemen,  who  had  once  the  prospect 
of  being  the  chief  ofiicers  in  my  army,  reduced  to  the 
stations  of  private  sentinels.  Nothing  but  your  loyalty, 
and  th't  of  a  few  of  my  subjects  in  Britain,  who  are 
forced  from  their  allegiance  by  the  Prince  of  Orange,  and 
who,  I  know,  will  be  ready  on  all  occasions  to  serve  me 
and  my  distressed  family,  could  make  me  willing  to  live. 
The  sense  of  what  all  of  you  have  done  and  undergone  for 
your  loyalty,  hath  made  so  deep  an  impression  upon  my 
heart,  that,  if  it  ever  please  God  to  restore  me,  it  is  im- 
possible I  can  be  forgetful  of  your  services  and  sufferings. 
Neither  can  there  be  any  posts  in  the  armies  of  my  domi- 
nions but  what  you  have  just  pretensions  to.  As  for  my 
son,  your  Prince,  he  is  of  your  own  blood,  a  child  capable 
of  any  impression,  and,  as  his  education  will  be  from  you, 
it  is  not  supposable  that  he  can  forget  your  merits.  At 
your  own  desires  you  are  now  going  a  long  march  far 
distant  from  me.  Fear  God  and  love  one  another.  "Write 
your  wants  particularly  to  me,  and  depend  upon  it  always 
to  find  me  your  parent  and  King."  The  scene  bore  a 
strong  resemblance  to  one  which  many  years  afterwards 
occurred  at  Fontainebleau.     The  company  listened  to  his 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS. 


233 


I 


words  with  deep  emotion,  gathered  round  him,  as  if  half 
repentant  of  their  own  desire  to  go ;  and  so  parted,  for 
ever  on  this  earth,  the  dethroned  monarch  and  his  exiled 
subjects. 

The  number  of  this  company  of  officers  was  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty :  their  destination  was  Perpignan  in 
Roussillon,  close  upon  the  frontier  of  Spain,  where  they 
were  to  join  the  army  under  the  command  of  the  Mareschal 
de  Noailles.  Their  power  of  endurance,  though  often 
most  severely  tested  in  an  unwholesome  climate,  seems  to 
have  been  no  less  remarkable  than  their  gallantry,  which 
upon  many  occasions  called  forth  the  warm  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  French  commanders.  "  Le  gentilliomme^^ 
said  one  of  the  generals,  in  acknowledgment  of  their 
readiness  at  a  peculiarly  critical  moment,  "  est  tov jours 
gentilhomme,  et  se  montre  toujours  tel  dans  le  hesoin  et 
dans  le  danger'' — a  eulogy  as  applicable  to  them  as  it 
was  in  later  days  to  La  Tour  d'Auvergne,  styled  the  first 
grenadier  of  France.  At  Perpignan  they  were  joined 
by  two  other  Scottish  companies,  and  the  three  seem  to 
have  continued  to  serve  together  for  several  campaigns. 

As  a  proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  they  were  held,  I 
shall  merely  extract  a  short  account  of  the  taking  of 
Rosas  in  Catalonia,  before  referring  to  the  exploit  which 
forms  the  subject  of  the  following  ballad.  "  On  the  27th 
of  May,  the  company  of  officers,  and  other  Scottish  com- 
panies, were  joined  by  two  companies  of  Irish,  to  make  up 
a  battalion  in  order  to  mount  the  trenches  ;  and  the  major 
part  of  the  officers  listed  themselves  in  the  company  of  gren- 
adiers, under  the  command  of  the  brave  Major  Rutherford, 
who,  on  his  way  to  the  trenches,  in  sight  of  Mareschal  de 
Noailles  and  his  court,  marched  with  his  conjpany  on  the 


l,:i 


'I 

is: 


t 


234  LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

side  of  the  trench,  which  exposed  him  to  the  fire  of  a  bas- 
tion, where   there  were  two  culverins  and  several   otlier 
guns   planted ;  likewise  to  tlie  fire   of  two  curtins   lined 
with  small-shot.     Colonel  Brown,  following  with  the  bat- 
talion, was   obliged,  in  honour,  to  march  the  same   way 
Major   Rutherford   had   done ;   the   danger  whereof  the 
Moreschal  immediately   perceiving,    ordered   one   of  his 
fiides-dc-camp   to   command  Rutherford  to  march   under 
cover  of  the  trench,  which  he  did ;  and   if  he'  had   but 
delayed  six  minutes,  the  grenadiers  and  battalion  liad  been 
cut  to  pieces.     Rutherford,  with  his  grenadiers,  marched 
to  a  trench  near  the  town,  and  the  battalion  to  a  trench  on 
the  rear  and  flank  of  the  grenadiers,  who  fired  so  inces- 
santly on   the  besieged,  that  they  thought   (the   breach 
being  practicable)  they  were  going  to  make  their  attacks, 
immediately  beat  a  chamade,  and  were  willing  to  give  up 
the   town   upon   reasonable   terms:  but  the   Mareschal's 
demands  were  so  exorbitant  that  the  Governor  could  not 
figree  to  them.     Then  firing  began  on  both  sides  to  be 
very  hot ;  and  they  in  the  town,  seeing  how  the  grenadiers 
lay,  killed  eight  of  them.     When  the  Governor  surrender- 
ed the  town,  he  inquired  of  the  Mareschal  what  country- 
men these  grenadiers  were;  and  assured  him  it  was   on 
their  account  he  delivered  up  the  town,  because  they  fired 
BO  hotly  that  he  believed  they  were  resolved  to  attack  the 
breach.      He  answered,  smiling,  '  Ce  sont  mes  en/ans'— 
They  are  my  children.     Again;   '  They  are  the  King  of 
Great  Britain's  Scottish  officers,  who,  to  show  their  willing- 
ness to  share  of  his  miseries,   have   reduced   themselves 
to  the  carrying  of  arms,  and  chosen  to  serve  under  my 
command.'     The  next  day,  when  the  Mareschal  rode  along 
the  front  of  the  camp,  he  halted  at  the  company  of  the 


t  / 

1 


THE  ISLAND  OF  TEE  SCOTS. 


235 


S 


officers'  piquet,  and  they  all  surrounded  him.  Then,  with 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  ho  thanked  them  for  their  good  ser- 
vices in  the  trenches,  and  freely  acknowledged  it  was  their 
conduct  and  courage  which  compelled  the  Governor  to 
give  up  the  town ;  and  assured  them  he  would  acquaint 
his  master  with  the  same,  which  he  did  ;  for  when  his  son 
arrived  with  the  news  at  Versailles,  the  King,  having  read 
the  letter,  immediately  took  coach  to  St  Germains,  and 
when  he  hud  shown  King  Jnmes  the  letter,  he  thanked 
him  for  the  services  his  subjects  had  done  in  taking  Bosas 
in  Catalonia;  who,  with  ccncern,  replied,  they  were  the 
stock  of  his  British  officers,  and  that  he  was  sorry  he  could 
not  make  better  provision  for  them." 

And  a  miserable  provision  it  was !  They  were  gra- 
dually compelled  to  part  with  every  remnant  of  the 
property  which  they  hud  secured  from  the  ruins  of  their 
fortunes ;  so  that  when  they  arrived,  after  various  adven- 
tures, at  Scelestadt,  in  Alsace,  they  were  literally  without 
the  common  means  of  subsistence.  Famine  and  the  sword 
had  by  this  time  thinned  their  ranks,  but  had  not  dimin- 
ished their  spirit,  as  the  following  narrative  of  their  last 
exploit  will  show : —  •  ^ 

"In  December  1697,  General  Stirk,  who  commanded 
for  the  Germans,  appeared  with  1(5,000  men  on  the  othor 
side  of  the  Ehine,  which  obliged  the  Marquis  de  Sell  to 
draw  out  all  the  garrisons  in  Alsace,  who  made  up  about 
4000  men ;  and  he  encamped  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Bhine,  over  against  General  Stirk,  to  prevent  his  passing 
the  Rhine  and  carrying  a  bridge  over  into  an  island  in  the 
middle  of  it,  which  the  French  foresaw  would  be  of  great 
preiudice  to  them.  For  thfi  f-nf-mv's  onns  T^la^c^  r^n  fV...* 
island,  would  extremely  gall  their  camp,  which  they  could 


i 


I 


236        LAYS  OF  TJIE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS 

not  hinder  for  tho  deepness  of  the  water,  and  their  want- 
ing of  boats— for  which,  the  Marquis  quicRly  sent;   but 
arriving  too  late,  the  Gornrins  had  carried  u  bridg*^  over 
into  the  island,  where  thoy  had  posted  above  five  hundred 
men,  who,  by  order  of  their  engineers,  intrenched  them- 
selves; which   the   company    of  officers  perceiving,  who 
always  grasped  after  honour,  and  scorned  all  thoughts  of 
danger,  resolved  to  wade  the  river,  and  attack  the  Germans 
in  the  island ;  and  for  that  effect,  desired  Captain  John 
Foster,  who  then  comm.-inded  them,  to  beg  of  the  Marquis 
that  they  might  have  liberty  to  attack  t!ie  Germans  in  the 
island ;  who  told  Captain  Foster,  when  the  boats  came  up, 
they  should  be  the  first  that  Jittacked.     Foster  courteous- 
ly thanked  the  Marquis,  and  told  him  they  would  wade 
into  the  island,  who  shrunk  up  his  shoulders,  prayed  God 
to  bless  them,  and  desired  them  to  do  what  they  ple;ised." 
Whereupon  the  officers,  with  the  other  two  Scottish  com- 
panies, made  themselves  ready ;  and,  having  secured  their 
arms  round  their  necks,  waded  into"  the  river  hand-in-hand, 
''according  to  the  Highland  fashion,"  with  the  water  as 
high  as  their  brtc^sts ;  and,  having  crossed  the  heavy  stream, 
fell  upon  the  Germans  in  their  intrenchment.     These  were 
presently  thrown  into  confusion,  and  retreated,  breaking 
down   their   own    bridges,    whilst    many  of    them   were 
drown,  i.     This  movement,  hciving  been  made  in  the  dusk 
of  the  evening,  partook  of  the  character  of  a  surprise ; 
but  it  appears  to  me  a  very  remarkable  one,  as  having  been 
effected  under  such  circumstances,  in  the  dead  of  winter, 
and  in  the  face  of  an  enemy  who  possessed  the  advantages 
both   of  position    and   of  numerical    superiority.      The 
author  of  the  narrative  adds:— "When  the  Marquis  de 
Seii  heard  tho  firing,  and  understood  that  the  Germans 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS. 


237 


were  bent  out  of  the  iwland,  he  nifidc  the  ainjn  of  the  cross 
on  his  face  and  breast,  and  declared  publicly  that  it  was 
the  bravest  action  that  ever  he  saw,  and  that  his  army 
had  no  honour  by  it.  As  soon  as  the  boats  came,  the 
Marquis  sent  into  the  island  to  acquaint  the  officers  that 
he  would  send  them  both  troops  and  provisions,  who  thank- 
ed his  Excellency,  and  desi-  A  he  should  be  informed  that 
they  wanted  no  troops,  and  could  not  spare  time  to  make 
use  of  provisions,  and  only  desired  spades,  shovels,  and 
pickaxes,  wherewith  they  might  intrench  themselves — 
which  were  immediately  sent  to  them.  The  next  morning, 
the  Marquis  came  into  the-  island,  and  kindly  embraced 
every  officer,  and  thanked  them  for  the  good  service  they 
had  done  his  m-ister,  assuring  them  he  would  write  a 
true  account  of  their  honour  and  bravery  to  the  Court  of 
France,  which,  at  the  reading  his  letters,  immediately 
went  to  St  Germains,  and  thanked  King  James  for  the 
services  his  subjects  had  done  on  the  Rhine." 

The  company  kept  possession  of  the  island  for  nearly 
six  weeks,  notwithstanding  repeated  a'^tempts  on  the  part 
of  the  Germans  to  surprise  and  dislodge  them ;  but  all 
these  having  been  defeated  by  the  extreme  watchfulness  of 
the  Scots,  General  Stirk  at  length  drew  off  his  army,  and 
retreated.  "  In  consequence  of  this  action,"  says  the 
Chronicler,  "  that  island  is  called  at  present  Isle  d'Ecosse, 
and  will  in  likelihood  bear  that  name  until  the  general 
coiiflagration." 

Two  years  afterwards,  a  treaty  of  peace  was  concluded ; 
and  this  gallant  company  of  soldiers,  worthy  of  a  better 
fate,  was  broken  up  and  dispersed.  At  the  time  when  the 
narrative,  from  which  i  have  quoted  so  freely,  was  eoia- 
piled,  not  more  chan  sixteen  of  Dundee's  veterans  were 


J! 


238 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISJT  UAVALTERS. 


was 


alive.  The  author  concludes  thus:— "And  thr 
dissolved  one  of  the  be^st  conipanies  that  ever  inarehcd 
under  command  !  Gentlemen,  who,  in  the  mid.t  of  ali 
their  pressures  and  obscurity,  never  forgot  they  were 
gent  men;  and  whom  the  sweets  of  a  brave,  a  just,  und 
honuurable  conscience  rendered  perhaps  more  happy  under 
those  suffenno-s  than  the  most  prosperous  and  triumphant 
in  iniquity,  since  our  minds  st;.mp  our  happiness." 

Some  years  ap;o,    while   visitinjr    the   ancient   Scottish 
convent   at  Ratisbone,    my  attention    was    drawn  to  the 
monumental  inscriptions  on  the  walls  of  the  dormitory 
n;any  of  which  bear  reference  to  .j.^entlomen  of  family  and 
distinction,  whose  political  principles  had  involved  them 
in  the  trcnibles  of  1688,  1715,  and  1745.     Whether  the 
cloister  which  now  holds  their  dust  had  afforded  them  a 
shelter  m  the  latter  years  of  their  misfortunes,  I  know 
not ;  but,  for  one  that  is  so  commemorated,  hundreds  of 
the  exiles  must  have  passed  away  in  obscurity,  buried  in 
the  field  on  which  they  fell,  or  carried  from  the  damp 
vaults  of  the  military  hospital  to  the  trench,  without  any 
token  of  remembrance,  or  any  other  wish   beyond   that 
which  the  minstrels  have  ascribed  to  one  of  the  greatest  of 
our  olden  heroes :  — 

"  Oh  I  bury  me  by  the  bracken  bush, 

Beneath  the  blooming  brier- 
Let  never  living  mortal  ken 

That  a  kindly  Scot  lies  here  I " 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS. 


I. 

The  Rhine  ia  running  deep  and  red, 

The  island  lies  before — 
"  Now  is  there  one  of  all  the  host 

Will  dare  to  venture  o'er  ? 
For  not  alone  the  river's  sweep 

Might  make  a  brave  man  quail ; 
The  foe  are  on  the. further  side, 

Their  shot  comes  fast  as  hail.  *^ 

God  help  us,  if  the  middle  isle 

We  may  not  hope  to  win  I 
Now  is  there  any  of  the  host 

Will  dare  to  venture  in  ?  " 

II. 

"  The  ford  is  deep,  the  banks  are  steep, 

The  island-shore  lies  wide  : 
Nor  man  nor  horse  could  stem  its  force, 

Or  reach  the  further  side. 
See  there  I  amidst  the  willow-boughs 

The  serried  bayonets  gleam  ; 
They've  flung  their  bridge — they've  won  the  isle; 

The  foe  have  crossed  the  stream  1 


240         LAYS  OF  TEE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Their  volley  flashes  sharp  and  strong— 

By  all  the  Saints  I  I  trow 
There  never  yet  was  soldier  bom 

Gould  force  that  passage  now !" 


in. 

So  spoke  the  bold  French  Mareschal 

"With  him  who  led  the  van, 
Whilst  rough  and  red  before  their  view 

The  turbid  river  ran. 

Nor  bridge  nor  boat  had  they  to  cross 

The  wild  and  swollen  Rhine, 
t  ' 

And  thundering  on  the  other  bank 

Far  stretched  the  German  line. 
Hard  by  there  stood  a  swarthy  man 

Was  leaning  on  his  sword, 
And  a-saddened  smile  lit  up  his  face 

As  he  heard  the  Captain's  word. 
"  I've  seen  a  wilder  stream  ere  now 

Than  that  which  rushes  there ; 
I've  stemmed  a  heavier  torrent  yet 

And  never  thought  to  dare. 
If  German  steel  be  sharp  and  keen, 

Is  ours  not  strong  and  true  ? 
There  may  be  danger  in  the  deed, 

But  there  is  honour  too." 


IV. 

The  old  lord  in  his  saddle  turned, 

And  hastily  he  said— 
"  Hath  bold  Duguesclin's  fiery  heart 

Awakened  from  the  dead  ? 


THE  ISLM^D  OF  THE  SCOTS. 

Thou  art  the  leader  of  the  Scota— 

Now  well  and  sure  I  know, 
That  gentle  blood  in  dangerous  hour 

Ne'er  yet  ran  cold  nor  slow, 
And  I  have  seen  ye  in  the  fight 

Do  all  tha*  mortal  may : 
If  honour  is  the  boon  ye  seek, 

It  may  be  won  this  day — 
The  prize  is  in  the  middle  isle, 

There  lies  the  adventurous  way. 
And  armies  twain  are  on  the  plain. 

The  daring  deed  to  see — 
Now  ask  thy  gallant  company 

If  they  will  follow  thee  I " 

V. 

Right  gladsome  looked  the  Captain  then^ 

And  nothing  did  he  say, 
But  he  turned  him  to  his  little  band — 

Oh  few,  I  ween,  were  they  1 
The  relics  of  the  bravest  force 

That  ever  fought  in  fray. 
No  one  of  all  that  company 

But  bore  a  gentle  name,    ' 
Not  one  whose  fathers  had  not  stood 

In  Scotland's  fields  of  fame. 
All  they  had  marched  with  great  Dundee 

To  where  he  fought  and  fell. 
And  in  the  deadly  battle-strife 

Had  venged  their  leader  well : 
And  they  had  bent  the  knee  to  earth 

When  every  eye  was  dim, 
As  o'er  their  hero's  buried  corpse 

They  sang  the  funeral  hymn ; 


241 


\ 


242  LAYS  OF  TUB  SCOTTISH  CAVALIFRS. 

And  thev  had  trod  the  Pass  once  more. 

And  stooped  on  either  side 
To  pluclc  the  heather  from  the  spot 

Where  je  had  dropped  and  died ; 
And  they  had  bound  it  next  their  hearts 

And  ta'en  a  last  farewell 
Of  Scottish  earth  and  Scottish  sky 

Where  Scotland's  glory  fell. 
Then  went  they  forth  to  foreign  lands 

Like  bent  and  broken  men, 
Who  leave  their  dearest  hope  behind. 

And  may  not  turn  again. 
{ 

VI. 

"  The  stream,"  he  said,  "is  broad  and  deep, 

And  stubborn  is  the  foe- 
Yon  island-strength  is  guarded  well- 
Say,  brothers,  will  ye  go  ? 
From  home  and  kin  for  many  a  year 

Our  steps  have  wandered  wide, 
And  never  may  our  bones  be  laid 

Our  fathers'  graves  beside. 
No  children  have  we  to  lament, 

No  wives  to  wail  our  fall ; 
The  traitor's  and  the  spoiler's  hand 

Have  reft  our  hearths  of  all. 
But  we  have  hearts,  and  we  have  arms 

As  strong  to  will  and  dare 
As  when  our  ancient  banners  flew 

Within  the  northern  air. 
Come,  brothers  1  let  me  name  a  spell 

Shfl.ll  rniiao  trrtnw  an■.■,^„ ;_ 

»"■  j'^'-ti  avtiiB  again, 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS. 

And  aend  the  old  blood  bounding  free 
Through  pulse,  and  heart,  and  vein. 

Call  back  the  days  of  bygone  years- 
Be  young  and  strong  once  more ; 

Think  yonder  stream,  so  stark  and  red, 
Is  one  we've  crossed  before. 

Rise,  hill  and  glen !  rise,  crag  and  wood! 
Rise  up  on  either  hand — 

Again  upon  the  Garry's  banks, 
On  Scottish  soil  we  stand  1 

Again  I  see  the  tartans  wave. 
Again  the  trumpets  ring ; 

Again  I  hear  our  leader's  call — 
'  Upon  them  for  the  King  1  ♦ 

Stayed  we  behind  that  glorious  day 
For  roaring  flood  or  linn  ? 

The  soul  of  Grasme  is  with  us  still- 
Now,  brothers  1  will  ye  in  ?  " 


243 


VII. 

No  stay— no  pause.    With  one  accord 

They  grasped  each  other's  hand, 
Then  plunged  into  the  angry  flood. 

That  bold  and  dauntless  band. 
High  flew  the  spray  above  their  heads, 

Yet  onward  still  they  bore, 
Midst  cheer,  and  shout,  and  answering  yell, 

And  shot,  and  cannon-roar — 
"  Now,  by  the  Holy  Cross  I  1  swear. 

Since  earth  and  sea  began. 
Was  never  such  a  daring  deed 

Essayed  by  mortal  man  1 " 
Q 


pir.ii*w»»t.iimwi>wti'n»»ii»iWW>imM)w«' 


I 


244        lAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

VIII. 

Thick  blew  the  smoke  across  the  stream, 
'  And  faster  flashed  the  flame : 

The  water  plashed  in  hissing  jets 

As  ball  and  bullet  came. 
Yet  onwards  pushed  the  Cavaliers 

All  stern  and  undismayed, 
With  thousand  armed  foes  before, 

And  none  behind  to  aid. 
Once,  as  they  neared  the  middle  stream, 
\    So  strong  the  torrent  swept, 
That  scarce  that  long  and  living  wall 

Their  dangerous  footing  kept. 
Then  rose  a  warning  cry  behind, 

A  joyous  shout  before : 
"  The  current's  strong— the  way  is  long — 

They'll  never  reach  the  shore ! 
See,  see  1  they  stagger  in  the  midst. 

They  waver  in  their  line  I 
Fire  on  the  madmen !  break  their  ranks. 

And  whelm  them  in  the  Rhine  I " 

IX. 

Have  you  seen  the  tall  trees  swaying 

When  the  blast  is  sounding  shrill, 
And  the  whirlwind  reels  in  fury 

Down  the  gorges  of  the  hill  ? 
How  they  toss  their  mighty  branches 

Struggling  with  the  tempest's  shock; 
How  they  keep  their  place  of  vantage, 

Cleaving  firmly  to  the  rock? 


THE  ISLAND  OF  TffE  SCOTS. 


^245 


Even  so  the  Scottish  warriors 

Held  their  own  against  the  river ; 
Though  the  water  flashed  around  them, 

Not  an  eye  was  seen  to  quiver ; 
Though  the  shot  flew  sharp  and  deadlj, 

Not  a  man  relaxed  his  hold : 
For  their  hearts  were  big  and  thrilling 

With  the  mighty  thoughts  of  old. 
One  word  was  spoke  among  them, 

And  through  the  ranks  it  spread — 
"Remember  our  dead  Claverhouse  1 " 

Was  all  the  Captain  said. 
Then,  sternly  bending  forward, 

They  wrestled  on  awhile. 
Until  they  cleared  the  heavy  stream. 
Then  rushed  towards  the  isle. 


X. 

The  German  heart  is  stout  and  true, 

The  German  arm  is  strong ; 
The  German  foot  goes  seldom  back 

Where  arm^d  foemen  throng. 
But  never  had  they  faced  in  field 

So  stern  a  charge  before, 
And  never  had  they  felt  the  sweep 

Of  Scotland's  broad  claymore. 
Not  fiercer  pours  the  avalanche 

Adown  the  steep  'ncline, 
That  rises  o'er  the  parent-springs 

Of  rough  and  rapid  Rhine — 
Scame  h\. ifjer  shnots  thu  KnU  ffnn%  Ti»....«~ 

Than  came  the  Scottish  band 


'ff^^fS»;l;liery  i1^Jta^0HtK^% 


: 


t  li 


246         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Right  up  against  the  guarded  trench, 
And  o'er  it  sword  in  hand. 

In  vain  their  leaders  forward  press — 
They  meet  the  deadly  brand  1 

XL 

0  lonely  island  of  the  Rhine — 

"Where  seed  was  never  sown, 
What  harvest  lay  upon  thy  sands, 

By  those  strong  reapers  thrown  ? 
What  saw  the  winter  moon  that  night, 
*      As,  struggling  through  the  rain. 
She  poured  a  wan  and  fitful  light 

On  marsh,  and  stream,  and  plain? 
A  dreary  spot  with  corpses  strewn. 

And  bayonets  glistening  round  ; 
A  broken  bridge,  a  stranded  boat, 

A  bare  and  battered  mound ; 
And  one  huge  watch-fire's  kindled  pile, 

That  sent  its  quivering  glare 
To  tell  the  leaders  of  the  host 

The  conquering  Scots  were  there ! 

XII. 

And  did  they  twine  the  la;irel-wreath 

For  those  who  fought  so  well  ? 
And  did  they  honour  those  who  lived, 

And  weep  for  those  who  fell  ? 
What  meed  of  thanks  was  given  to  them 

Let  aged  annals  tell. 
Why  should  they  bring  the  laurel-wreath— 

Why  crown  the  cup  with  wine? 


THE  ISLAND  OF  TBE  SCOTS. 

It  was  not  Frenchmen's  blood  that  flowed 

So  freely  on  the  Rhine— 
A  stranger  band  of  beggared  men   " 

Had  done  the  venturous  deed : 
The  glory  was  to  France  alone, 

The  danger  was  their  meed. 
And  what  cared  they  for  idle  thanks 

From  foreign  prince  and  peer  ? 
What  virtue  had  such  honeyed  words 

The  exiled  heart  to  cheer  ? 
What  mattered  it  that  men  should  vaunt 

And  loud. and  fondly  swear, 
That  higher  feat  of  chivalry 

Was  never  wrought  elsewhere? 
They  bore  within  their  breasts  the  grief 

That  fame  can  never  heal — 
The  deep,  unutterable  woe 

Which  none  save  exiles  feel. 
Their  hearts  were  yearning  for  the  land 

They  ne'er  might  see  again— 
For  Scotland's  high  and  heathered  hills, 

For  mountain,  loch,  and  glen— 
For  those  who  haply  lay  at  rest 

Beyond  the  distant  sea, 
Beneath  the  green  and  daisied  turf 
Where  they  would  gladly  be  I 


247 


XIII. 

Long  years  went  by.    The  lonely  isle 
In  Rhine's  impetuous  flood 

Has  ta'en  another  name  from  those 
Who  bought  it  with  their  blood : 


I 


248         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

And,  though  the  legend  does  not  live — 

For  legends  lightly  die— 
The  peasant,  as  he  sees  the  stream 

In  winter  rolling  by, 
And  foaming  o'er  its  channel  bed 

Between  him  and  the  spot 
Won  by  the  warriors  of  the  sword, 
Still  calls  that  deep  and  dangerous  ford 

The  Passage  of  the  Soot. 


CHAKLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES. 


Though  the  sceptre  had  departed  from  the  ITouse  of 
Stuart,  it  was  reserved  fbr  one  of  its  last  descendants  to 
prove  to  the  world,  by  his  personal  gallantry  and  noble 
spirit  of  enterprise,  that  he  at  least  had  not  degenerated 
from  his  royal  line  of  ancestors.  The  daring  effort  of 
Charles  Edward  to  recover  the  crown  of  these  kingdoms 
for  his  father,  is  to  us  the  most  remarkable  incident  of  the 
last  century.  It  was  honourable  alike  to  the  Prince  and 
to  those  who  espoused  his  cause ;  and  even  in  a  political 
point  of  view,  the  outbreak  ought  not  to  be  deplored, 
since  its  failure  put  an  end  for  ever  to  the  dynastlcil 
struggle  which,  for  more  than  half  a  century,  had  agitated 
the  whole  of  Britain  ;  since  it  established  the  rule  of  law 
and  of  social  order  throughout  the  mountainous  districts 
of  Scotland,  atid  blended  Celt  and  Saxon  into  one  prosper- 
ous and  united  people.  It  was  better  that  the  antiquated 
eystem  of  clanship  should  have  expired  in  a  blaze  of  glory, 
than  gradually  dwindled  into  contempt ;  better  that  the 


H       I 


: 


250         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS.  -^  . 

pitriarchal  rule  should  nt  once  have  been  extinguished  by 
the  dire  catastrophe  of  CuJlodoD,  than  that  it  sJiould  have 
hngered   on,  the  shadow  of  an  old  tradition.     There   is 
nothing  now  to  prevent  us  from  dwelling  with  pride  and 
admiration  on  the  matchless  devotion  displayed  by  the 
Highlanders,  in  1745,  in  behalf  of  the  heir  of  him  whom 
tliey  acknowledged  as  their  lawful  king.     No  feeling  can 
arise  to  repress  the  interest  and  the  sympathy  which  is 
exnted  by  the  perusal  of  the  tale  narrating  the  sufferings 
of  the   princely  wanderer.     That   unbought  loyalty  and 
allegiance  of  the  heart,  which  would  not  depart  from  its 
constancy  until  the  tomb  of  the  Vatican  had  closed  upon 
the  last  of  the  Stuart  Hue,  has  long  since  been  transferred 
to  the  constitutional  sovereign  of  these  realms;  and  the 
enthusiastic  welcome  which  has  so  often  greeted  the  return 
of  Queen  Victoria  to  her  Highland  home,  owes  its  origin 
to  a  deeper  feeling  than  that  dull  respect  which  modern 
liberalism  asserts  to  be  the  only  tribute  due  to  the  first 
m  igistrate  of  the  land. 

The  campaign  of  1745  yields  in  romantic  interest  to 
none  which  is  written  in  history.  A  you.ig  and  inexperi- 
enced prince,  whose  person  was  utterly  unknown  to  any  of 
his  adherents,  landed  on  the  west  coast  of  Scotland,  not  at 
the  head  of  a  foreign  force,  not  mummented  with  supplies 
and  arms,  but  accompanied  by  a  mere  handful  of  followers, 
and  ignorant  of  the  language  of  the  people  amongst  whom 
he  was  hazarding  his  person.  His  presence  in  Scotland  had 
not  been  urged  by  the  chiefs  of  the  clans,  most  of  whom 
were  deeply  averse  to  embarking  in  an  enterprise  which 
must^ involve  them  in  a  war  with  so  powerful  an  antagonist 
as  England,  and  which,  if  unsuccessful,  could  only 
t-rminate  in  the  utter  ruin  of  their  fortunes.     This  was 


•A 


CHARLES  ED  WARD  A  T  VERSAILLES.  251 

not  a  cause  in  which  the  whole  of  Scotland  was  concerned. 
Although  it  was  well  known  that  many  ki  iding  families  in 
the  Lowlands  entertained  Jacobite  opinions,  and  although 
a  large   proportion    of  the  common    people  had   not  yet 
become  reconciled  to,  or  satisfied  of  the  advantages  of  the 
Union,  by  which  they  considered  themselves  dishonoured 
and  betrayed,  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that,  without 
some  fair  guarantee  for  success,  the  bulk  of  the  Scottish 
nation  would  actively  bestir  themselves  on  the  side  of  the 
exiled  family.   Besides  this,  even  amongst  the  Highlanders 
there  was  not  unanimity  of  opinion.     The  three  northern 
clans  of  Sutherland,  Mackay,  and  Monro,  were  known  to 
be  stanch  supporters  of  the  Government.     It  was  doubtful 
what  part  might  be  taken  in  the  struijgle  by  those  of 
Mackenzie  and  Ross.    The  chiefs  of  Skye,  who  could  have 
brought  a  hirge  force  of  armed  men  into  the  field,  had  de- 
clined participating  in  the  attempt.  The  adhesion  of  Lord 
Lovat,  upon  which  the  co-operation  of  the  Erasers  might 
depend,  could  not  be  calculated  on  with  cert;dnty ;  and 
nothing  but  hostility  could  be  expected  from  the  powerful 
sept  of  the  Campbells.     Under  such  circumstances,  it  is 
little  wonder  if  Cameron  of  Locheill,  the  most  sagacious 
of  all  the  chieftains  who  favoured  the  Stuart  cause,  was 
struck  with  consternation  and  alarm  at  the  news  of  the 
Prince's  landing,  or  that  he  attempted  to  persuade  him 
from  undertaking  an  adventure  so  seemingly  hopeless.  Mr 
Robert  Chambers,  in  his  admirable  history  of  that  period, 
does  not  in  the  least  exaggerate   the   importance  of  the 
interview  on  the  result  of  which  the  prosecution  of  the 
war  depended.     ''  On  arriving  at  Borrodale,  Locheill  had 

J- \ic:w  >'\»vxx  fiiv  X  iitice,  m  wiiiuii  ine  proDitui- 

lities  of  the  enterprise  were  anxiously  debated.     Charles 


I   'ii 


I 


252  LAVS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

used  every  argument  to  excite  the  loyalty  of  Locheill,  and 
the  chief  exerted  all  his  eloquence  to  persuade  the  Prince 
to  withdraw  till  a  better  opportunity.     Charles  represented 
the  present  as  the  best  possible  opportunity,  seeing  that 
the  French   general   kept   the   British  army  completely 
engaged  abroad,  while  at  home  there  were  no  troops  but 
one  or   two  newly-raised   regiments.     Ho   expressed   his 
confidence  that  a  small  body   of  Highlanders  would  be 
sufficient  to  gain  a  victory  over  all  the  force  that  could 
now  be  brought  against  him  ;  and  he  was  equally  sure  that 
such  an  advantage  was  all  that  was  required  to  make  his 
friends  at   home  declare  in  his  favour,  and  cause  those 
abroad  to  send  him  assistance.     All  he  wanted  was  that 
the   Highlanders   would   begin  the   war.     Lochcill   still 
resisted,   entreating  Charles  to   be  more  temperate,    and 
consent  to  remain  concealed  where  he  was,  till  his  friends 
should  meet  together  and  concert  what  was  best  to  be  done. 
Chj^rles,  whose  mind  was  wound  up  to  the  utmost  pitch  of 
impatience,  paid  no  regard  to  this  proposal,  but  answered 
that  he  was  determined  to  put  all  to  the  hazard.     '  In  a 
few  days,'  said  he,  '  with  the  few  friends  I  have,  I  will 
raise  the  royal  standard,  and  proclaim   to  the  people  of 
Britain  that  Charles  Stuart  is  come  over  to  claim  the 
crown  of  his  ancestors— to  win  it,  or  to   perish  in  the 
attempt  1     Locheill— who,  my  father  has  often  told  me, 
was  our  firmest  friend— may  stay  at  home,  and  learn  from 
the   newspapers   the   fate   of  his  Prince!'     'No!'   said 
Locheill,  stung  by  so  poignant  a  reproach,  and  hurried 
away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment ;  '  I  will  share  the 
fate  of  my  Prince,  and  so  shall  every  man  over  whom 
nature  or  fortune  has  jriven  me  anv  nnw^r.'     Rnoh  w.ist  fhe 
juncture  upon  which  depended  the  citil  war  of  1745 ;  for 


,    CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLEa.         253 

It  is  a  point  agreed,  says  Mr  Home,  who  narrates  this 
conversation,  that  if  Locheili  had  persisted  in  his  refusal 
to  take  arms,  no  other  chief  would  have  joined  the  standard 
ftnd  the  spark  of  rebollion  must  have  been  instantly 
extinguished."  Not  more  than  twelve  hundred  men  were 
assembled  in  Glenfinnan  on  the  day  when  the  standard  was 
unfurled  by  the  Marquis  of  Tullibardine;  and  at  the  head 
of  this  mero  handful  of  followers,  Charles  Edward  com- 
menced the  stupendous  enterprise  of  reconquering  the 
dominions  of  his  fathers. 

With  a  force   which,  at   the   battle   of  Preston,  did 
not   double   the   above    numbers,  the  Prince  descended 
upon    the    Lowlands,    having   baffled    the    attempts   of 
General  Cope  to  intercept  his  march— occi;pied  the  city 
Of  Perth,  and    the   town   of  Dundee,  a-ud  finally,  after 
a  faint  show  of  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  burghers, 
took  possession  of  the  ancient   capital  of  Scotland^  and 
once  more   established    a   court    in    the    halls  of  Holy- 
rood.      His   youth,   his   gallantry,    and   the   grace   and 
beauty   of  his   person,    added  to   a   most  winning  and 
affable  address,  acquired  for  him  the  sympathy  of  many 
Who,  from  political  motives,  abstained  from  becoming  his 
adherents.     Possibly  certain  feelings  of  nationality,  which 
no  deliberate  views  of  civil  or  religious  policy  could  alto- 
gether extirpate,  led  such  men  to  regard,  with  a  sensation 
akin  to  pride,  the  spectacle  of  a  prince  descended  from  the 
long  line  of  Scottish  kings,  again  occupying  his  ances- 
tral   seat,  and  restoring   to   their   country,    which   had 
been  utterly  neglected  by  the  new   dynasty,    a  portion 
of  its  former  state.     No  doubt  a  sense   )f  pity  for  the 
probable  fate  of  one  so  young  and  chivalrous  was  often 
present  to  their  minds,  for  they  had  thorough  confidence 


lEl 


i 


I     ii 


if  > 


!»  I 


254 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


m  the  intrepidity  of  the  regular  troops,  and  in  the 
capacity  of  their  commander;  and  they  never  for  a 
moment  supposed  that  these  could  be  successfully  encoun- 
tered  by  a  raw  levy  of  undisciplined  Highlanders,  ill 
armed  and  worse  equipped,  and  without  the  support  of  any 
artillery.  "^ 

The  issue  of  the  battle  of  Prestonpans  struck  Edin- 
burgh  with  amazement.     In  point  of  numbers  the  two 
armies  were  nearly  equal,  but  in  everything   else,  save 
personal   valour,    the   royal   troops   had    the    advantage. 
And  yet,  m  four  minufes—f or    the   battle  is  said  not 
to  have    lasted    longer-the    Highlanders   having   made 
only  one  terrific  and  impetuous  charge-the  rout  of  the 
regulars    was   general.     The    infantry   was    broken    and 
cut  to  pieces;    the  dragoons,  who  behaved  shamefully  on 
the  occasion,  turned  bridle  and  fled,  without  having  once 
crossed  swords  with  the  enemy.     Mr  Chambers  thus  ter- 
minates his  account  of  the  action  :     ''  The  general  result 
of  the  battle  of  Preston  may  be  stated  as  having  been  the 
total  overthrow  and  almost  entire  destruction  of  the  royal 
army.     Most  of  the  infantry,  falling  upon  the  park  walls 
of  Preston,  were  there  huddled  together  without  the  power 
of  resistance  into  a  confused  drove,    and    had  either  to 
surrender  or  be  cut  to  pieces.     Many,  in  vainly  attempt- 
ing to  climb   over   the   walls,    fell  an    easy  prey  to  the 
ruthless    claymore.     Nearly  400,  it   is  said,    were    thus 
slam,  700  taken,  while  only  about  170  in  all  succeeded 
hn  efFecting  their  escape. 

"  The  dragoons,  with  worse  conduct,  were  much  more 
fortunate.     In  falling  back,  they  had  the  good  luck   to 

nnd  outlets  from  thpir  *•r>c^v^.^"^5^.c.  ~™v:-.-     i      .i  , 

"^'^   ^v>=pcv,Live  puHitiuus  oy  tne  roads 

which  ran    along    the   various  extremities  of  the  park 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.         255 

wall,  and  they  thus  got  clear  through  the  village  with 
little  slaughter;  after  which,  as  the  Highlanders  had 
no  horse  to  pursue  them,  they  were  safe.  Several  officers 
among  whom  were  Fowkes  and  Lascellos,  escaped  to 
Cockenzie  and  along  Seton  Sands,  in  a  direction  con- 
trary  to  the  general  flight. 

"  The  unfortunate  Cope   had   attempted,  at   the   first 
break  of  Gardiner's  dragoons,  to  stop   and  rally  them, 
but  was  borne  headlong  with  the  confused  bands,  through 
the    narrow   road    to    the  south   of  the  enclosures,  not- 
withstanding all  his  efforts  to  the  contrary.     On  getting 
beyond  the  village,  where  he  was  joined  by  the  retreat^ 
mg  bands  of  the  other  regiment,  he  made  one  anxious 
effor;,    with   the   Earls  of  Loudon  and  Home,   to  form 
and  bring  them  back  to  charge  the  enemy,  now  disor- 
dered  by   the   pursuit;    but    in   vain.       They   fled   on 
ducking  their  heads  along  their  horses'  necks  to  escap^ 
the  bullets  which  the  pursuers  occasionally  sent  after  them. 
By  using  great  exertions,  and  holding  pistols  to  the  heads 
of  the  troopers,  Sir  John  and  a  few  of  his  officers  induced 
a  small  number  of  them  to  halt  in  a  field  near  St.  Olement's 
Wells,  about  two  miles  from  the  battle  ground.     But, 
after    a    momentary   delay,    the   accidental   firing   of   a 
pistol  renewed  the  panic,  and  they  rode  off  once  more  in 
great  disorder.     Sir  John  Cope,  with  a  portion  of  them, 
reached    Channelkirk   at   an    early  hour    in    the    fore- 
noon, and  there  halted  to  breakfast,  and  to  write  a  brief 
note    to    one   of  the   state-officers,  relating  the   fate    of 
the  day.     He  then  resumed  his  flight,  and  reached  Cold- 
stream that  night.    Next  morning  he  proceeded  to  Berwick, 
whos^  fortifications  seemed  competent  to  give  the  security 
he   required.      He  everywhere  brought   the  first  tidiii-s 
of  his  own  defeat."  ° 


[  I      :l]fi 


256         I^^TS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  PAVALJERS. 

This  victory  operated  very  much  in  favour  of  Prince 
Charles.     It  secured  him,  for  a  season,  the  undisputed 
possession  of  Scotland,  and  enabled  numerous  adherents 
from  all  parts   of  the  country  to  raise   such   forces  as 
they   could   command,    and    to  repair    to    his   banner. 
His   popularity  in   Edinburgh    daily   increased,   as   the 
qualities   of  his  person  and  mind   became  known ;  and 
such  testimony   as  the  following,   with   respect  to   hia 
estimation  by  the  fair  sex  and  the  devotion  they  exhibited 
in  his  cause,  is  not   overcharged  :     '^  His  afikbility  and 
great  personal  grace  wrought  him  high  favour  with  the 
ladies,  who,  as  we  learn  from  the  letters  of  President 
Forbes,  became  generally  so  zealous  in  his  cause  as  to 
have  some  serious  effect  in  inducing  their  admirers  to 
declare  for  the  Prince.     There  was,  we  know  for  certain, 
a  Miss   Lumsden,  who  plainly  told  her  lover,  a  young 
artist,  named  Robert  Strange,  that  he  might  think  no  more 
of  her  unless  he  should  immediately  join  Prince  Charles, 
and  thus  actually  prevailed  upon  him  to  take  up  arms.    It 
may  be  added  that  he  survived   the  enterprise,  escaped 
with  great   difficulty,  and  married   the   lady.     He   was 
afterwards  the  best  line-engraver  of  his  time,  and  received 
the   honour  of   knighthood   from   George  III.     White 
ribbons  and  breastknots  became  at  this  time  conspicuous 
articles  of  female  attire  in  private  assemblies.     The  ladies 
also  showed  considerable  zeal  in  contributing  plate  and 
other  articles  for  the  use  of  the  Chevalier  at  the  T)alace, 
and   in   raising  pecuniary  subsidies  for  him.     Many  a 
posset-dish   and    snuff-box,   many  a   treasured   necklace 
and^repeater,  many  a  jewel  which  had  adorned  its  suc- 
cessive generations  of  family  beauties,  was  at  this  time 
sold  or  laid  in  pledge,  to  raise  a  little  money  for  the 
service  of  Prince  Charlie. 


CHARLES  JEDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.  257 

As  to  the  motives  and  intended  policy  of  this  remark- 
able  and  unfortunate  young  man,  it  may  be  interesting 
to  quote  the  terms  of  the  proclamation  which  he  issued 
on  the  10th  October  1745,  before  commencing  his  march 
into  England.  Let  his  history  be  impartially  read-^ 
his  character,  as  spoken  to  by  those  who  knew  him 
best,  fairly  noted— and  I  think  there  cannot  be  a  doubt 
that,  had  he  succeeded  in  his  daring  attempt,  he  would 
have  been  true  to  the  letter  of  his  word,  and  fulfilled 
a  pledge  which  Britain  never  more  required  than  at 
the  period  when  that  document  was  penned. 

"  Do  not  the  pulpits  and  congregations  of  the  clergy, 
as  well  as  your  weekly  papers,  ring  with  the  dreadful 
threats  of  popery,  slavery,  tyranny,  and  arbitrary  power, 
which  are  now  ready  to  be  imposed  upon  you  by  the 
formidable  powers  of  France  and  Spain  ?  Is  not  my 
royal  father  represented  as  a  bloodthirsty  tyrant,  breath- 
ing out  nothing  but  destruction  to  all  who  will  not 
immediately  embrace  an  odious  religion?  Or  have  I 
myself  been  better  used  ?  But  listen  only  to  the  naked 
truth. 

"I,  with  my  own  money,  hired  a  small  vessel.  Ill- 
supplied  with  money,  arms,  or  friends,  I  arrived  in 
Scotland,  attended  by  seven  persons.  I  publish  the 
King  my  father's  declaration,  and  proclaim  his  title, 
with  pardon  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  liberty  of 
conscience,  and  the  most  solemn  promises  to  grant 
whatever  a  free  Parliament  shall  propose  for  the  happi- 
ness of  the  people.  I  have,  I  confess,  the  greatest  reason 
to  adore  the  goodness  of  Almighty  God,  who  has  in  so 
■atjiu  a  manner  protected  me  and  my  small  army 
h  the  many  dangers  to  which  we  were  at   first 


rcitn 


■ 


258        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALlBIiS. 

exposed,  and  w!io  has  led  mo  in  the  way  to  victory, 
and  to  the  capital  of  this  ancient  kingdom,  amidst  the 
acclamations  of  the  King  my  Father's  subjects.  Wliy, 
then,  is  so  much  pains  tiken  to  spirit  up  the  minds  of 
the  people  against. this  my  undertaking? 

"  The  reason  is  obvious ;  it  is,  lc;st  the  real  sense  of 
the  nation's  present  sufferings  should  blot  out  the 
remembrance  of  past  misfortunes,  and  of  the  outcries 
formerly  raised  against  the  royal  family.  Whatever 
miscarriages  might  have  given  occasion  to  them,  they 
have  been  ,more  than  atoned  for  since ;  and  the  nation 
has  now  an  opportunity  of  being  secured  against  the 
like  in  future. 

"  That  our  family  has  suifered  exile  during  these 
fifty-seven  years,  everybody  knows.  Has  the  nation, 
during  that  period  of  time,  been  the  more  happy  and 
flourishing  for  it  ?  Have  you  found  reason  to  love  and 
cherish  your  governors  as  the  fathers  of  the  people  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland  ?  Has  a  family,  upon  whom 
a  faction  unlawfully  bestowed  the  diadem  of  a  |^ghtful 
prince,  retained  a  dj|e  sense  of  so*  great  a  trust  and 
favour?  Have  you  found  more  liumanity  and  condes- 
cension in  those  who  were  not  born  to  a  crown,  than 
in  my  royal  forefathers  ?  Have  their  ears  been  open  to 
the  cries  of  the  people  ?  Have  they  or  do  they  consider 
only  the  interests  of  these  nations?  Have  you  reaped 
any  other  benefit  from  them  than  an  immense  load  of 
debt?  If  I  am  answered  in  the  afiirmative,  why  has 
their  government  been  so  often  railed  at  in  all  jour 
public  assemblies?     Why  has   the   nation   been  so  long 

or  rcuFcss  aiiuinst  tuc  ribiiHc  of  I  ar- 


-•^  ••'&    '-'««'   ' 


liament«,  upon  account  of  their  long  duration,  the  multi- 


lUlt'l- 


CHARLE8  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES,         269 

tude  of  placemen,  which  occasions  their  venality,  the 
introduction  of  penul  laws,  and,  in  general,  against  the 
miserable  situation  of  the  kingdom  at  home  and  abroad  ? 
All  these,  and  many  more  inconveniences,  must  now  be 
removed,  unless  the  people  of  Great  Britain  be  already  so 
far  corrupted  that  they  will  not  accept  of  freedom  when 
oflfered  to  them,  seeing  the  King,  on  his  restoration,  will 
refuse  nothing  that  a  free  Parliament  can  ask  for  the  secu- 
rity of  the  religion,  laws,  and  liberty  of  his  people. 

''  It  is  now  time  to  conclude ;  and  I  shall  do  it  with 
this  reflection  :  Civil  wars  are  ever  attended  with  rancour 
and  ill-will,  which  party-rnge  never  fails  to  produce  in  the 
minds  of  those  whom  diflferent  interests,  principles,  or 
views,  set  in  opposition  to  one  another.  I,  therefore,  earn- 
estly require  it  of  my  friends  to  give  as  little  loose  as 
possible  to  such  passions  :  this  will  prove  the  most  effectual 
means  to  prevent  the  same  in  the  enemies  of  my  royal 
cause.  And  this  my  declaration  will  vindicate  to  all  pos- 
terity the  nobleness  of  my  undertaking  and  the  generosity 
of  my  intentions." 

There  was  much  truth  in  the  open  charges  preferred  in 
this  declaration  against  the  existing  Government.  The 
sovereigns  of  the  House  of  Hanover  had  always  shown  a 
marked  predilection  for  their  Continental  possessions,  and 
had  proportionally  neglected  the  affairs  of  Britain.  Under 
Walpole's  administration,  the  Imperial  Parliament  had 
degenerated  from  an  independent  assembly  to  a  junta  of 
placemen,  and  the  most  flagitious  system  of  bribery  was 
openly  practised  and  avowed.  It  was  not  without  reason 
that  Charles  contrasted  the  state  of  the  nation  then  with 
its  position  when  under  the  rule  of  the  legitimate  family 
and  had  there  not  beeu  a  strong,  though,  I  think   unrea- 

R 


I 


' 


I 


260        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

sonable  suspicion  in  the  minds  of  many,  that  his  success 
would  be  the  prelude  to  a  vigorous  attack  upon  the  estab- 
lished religions  of  the  country,  and  that  he  would   be 
inclined  to  follow  out  in  this  respect  the  fatal  policy  of  his 
grandfather,  Charles  would  in  all  probability  have  received 
a  more  active  and  general  support  than  was  accorded  to 
him.     But  the  zeal  with  which  the  Episcopalian  party  in 
Scotland  espoused  his  cause,  naturally  gave  rise  to  the  idea 
that  the  attempt  of  the  Prince  was  of  evil  omen  to  Pres- 
bytery ;  and  the  settlement  of  the  Church  upon  its  present 
footing  was  yet  so  recent,  that  the  sores  of  the  old  feud 
W(ire  still  festering  and  green.     The  Established  clergy, 
therefore,  were,  nearly  to  a  man,  opposed  to  his  preten- 
sions ;  and  one  minister  of  Edinburgh,  at  the  time  when 
the  Highland  host  was  in  possession  of  the  city,  had  the 
courage  to  conclude   his   prayer  nearly  in  the  following 
terms — "  Bless  the  king ;  Thou  knows  what  king  I  mean 
— ^may  his  crown  long  sit  easy  on  his  head.     And  as  to 
this  young  man  who  has  come  among  us  to  seek  an  earthly 
crown,  we  beseech  Thee  in  mercy  to  take  him  to  Thyself 
and  give  him  a  crown  of  glory  ! "     At  the  same  time  it  is 
very  curious  to  observe,  that  the  most  violent  sect  of  Pres- 
byterians, who  might  be  considered  as  the  representatives 
of  the  extreme  Cameronian  principle,  and  who  had  early 
seceded  from  the  Church,  and  bitterly  opposed  the  union 
of  the  kingdoms,  were  not  indisposed,  on  certain  terms,  to 
coalesce  with  the  Jacobites.      It   is   hardly  possible  to 
understand  the  motives  which  actuated  these  men,  who 
appear  to  have  regarded  each  successive  Government  as 
equ  illy  obnoxious.      Some  writers  go  the  length  of  aver- 
ring that,  in  1688,  a  negoti  -ion  was  opened  by  one  section 
of  the  Coveiiantcra  with  Lord  .Diiudue,  with  the  object  of 


3  success 
he  estub- 
ould   be 
ay  of  his 
received 
orded  to 
party  in 
the  idea 
to  Pros- 
3  present 
old  feud 
i  clergy, 
i  preten- 
aae  when 
had  the 
bllowing 
:  I  mean 
id  as  to 
1  earthly 
Thyself 
ime  it  is 
of  Pres- 
jntatives 
ad  early 
e  union 
erms,  to 
sible  to 
Bn,  who 
tnent  as 
of  aver- 
section 
bject  of 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.         261 

resistance  to  the  usurpation  of  William  of  Orange,  and 
that  the  project  was  frustrated  only  by  the  death  of  that 
heroic  nobleman.  Sir  Walter  Scott— a  great  authority 
— «eems  to  have  been  convinced  that  such  was  the  case ; 
but  in  the  absence  of  direct  proof,  I  can  hardly  credit  it. 
It  is  perfectly  well  known  that  a  conspiracy  was  formed  by 
a  certain  section  of  the  Cameronian  party  to  assassinate 
Lords  Dundee  and  Dunfermline  whilst  in  attendance  at 
the  meeting  of  Estates ;  and  although  the  recognition  of 
William  as  king  might  not  have  been  palatable  to  others 
who  held  the  same  opinions,  it  would  be  a  strange  thing 
if  they  had  so  suddenly  resolved  to  assist  Dundee  in  his 
efforts  for  the  exiled  family.  But  the  political  changes  in 
Scotland,  more  especially  the  Union,  seem  to  have  inspired 
some  of  these  men  with  a  spirit  of  disaflfection  to  the 
Government ;  for,  according  to  Mr  Chambers,  the  most 
rigid  sect  of  Presbyterians  had,  since  the  Revolution, 
expressed  a  strong  desire  to  coalesce  with  the  Jacobites, 
with  the  hope,  in  case  the  house  of  Stuart  were  restored, 
to  obtain  what  they  called  a  covenanted  King.  Of  this 
sect  one  thousand  had  assembled  in  Dumfriesshire  at  the 
first  intelligence  of  the  insurrection,  bearing  arms  and 
colours,  and  supposed  to  contemplate  a  junction  with  the 
Chevalier.  But  these  religionists  were  now  almost  as 
violently  distinct  from  the  Established  Church  of  Scot- 
land as  ever  they  had  been  from  those  of  England  and 
Rome,  and  had  long  ceased  to  play  a  prominent  part 
in  the  national  disputes.  The  Established  clergy,  and  the 
greater  part  of  their  congregations,  were  averse  to  Charles, 
upon  considerations  perfectly  moderate,  at  the  same  time 
not  easy  to  be  shaken. 


262       LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  VAVALIER8. 

On  commencing  his  march  into  England,  Charles  found 
himself  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  between  five  thousand 
and  six  thousand  men,  which  force  was  considered  strong 
enough,  with  the  augmentations  it  might  receive  on  the 
way,  to  effect  the  occupation  of  London.     Had  the  Eng- 
lish Jacobites  performed  their  part  with  the  same  zeal  as 
the  Scots,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  attempt  would 
have  been  crowned  with  success.     As  it  was,  the  Prince 
succeeded  in  reducing  the  strong  fortified  town  of  Carlisle, 
and  in  marching  without  opposition  through  the  heart  of 
England,  as  fur  as  Perby,  within  one  hundred  miles  of  the 
metropolis.     But  here   his   better  genius  deserted   him* 
Discord  had  crept  into  his  counsels ;  for  some  of  the  chiefs 
became   seriously  alarmed  at  finding  that  the  gentry  of 
England,  so  far  from  preparing  to  join  the  expedition, 
preferred  remaining  at  home,  inactive  spectators  of  the 
contest.     Except  at  Manchester,  they  had  received  few  or 
no  recruits.     No  tidings  had  reached  them  from  Wales — 
a  country  supposed  to  be  devoted  to  the  cause  of  King 
James,  whilst  it  was  well  known  that  a  large  force  was 
already  in  arms  to  oppose  the  clans.     Mr  Chambers  gives 
us  the  following  details  : — "  At  a  council  of  war  held  on 
the  morning  of  the  5th  December,  Lord  George  Murray 
and  the  other  members  gave  it  as  their  unanimous  opinion 
that  the  army  ougVi  to  return  to  Scotland.     Lord  George 
pointed  out  that  they  were  about  to  be  environed  by  three 
armies,  amounting  collectively  to  about  thirty  thousand 
men,  while  their  own  forces  were  not  above  five  thousand, 
if  so  many.     Supposing  an  unsuccessful  engagement  with 
any  of  these  armies,  it  could  not  be  expected  that  one  man 
would  escape,  for  the  militia  would  beset  every  road.  The 
Prince,  if  not  slain  in  the  battle,  must  fall  into  the  enemy's 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.         263 


King 


hands;  the  whole  world  would  blame  them  as  fools  for 
running   into   such   a   risk.     Charles   answered,    that  he 
regarded  not  his  own  danger.     He  pressed,  with  all  the 
force  of  argument,  to  go  forward.     He  did  not  doubt,  he 
said,  that  the  justice  of  his  cause  would  prevail.     He  was 
hopeful  that  there  might  be  a  defection  in  the  enemy's 
army,  and  that  many  would  declare  for  him.     He  was  so 
very  bent  on  putting  all  to  the  risk,  that  the  Duke  of  Perth 
was  for  it,  since  his  Royal  Highness  was.     At  last  he 
proposed  going  to  Wales  instead  of  returning  to  Carlisle  ; 
but  every  other  officer  declared  his  opinion  for  a  retreat. 
These  are  nearly  the  words  of  Lord  Greorge  Murray.     We 
are  elsewhere  told  that  the  Prince  condescended  to  use 
entreaties  to  induce  his  adherents  to  alter  their  resolution. 
*  Rather  than  go  back,'  he  said,    '  I  would  wish  to  be 
twenty  feet  under  ground  ! '     His  chagrin,  when  he  found 
his  councillors   obdurate,  was  beyond  all  bounds.     The 
council  broke  up,  on  the  understanding  that  the  retreat  was 
to  commence  next  morning ;  Lord  George  volunteering  to 
take  the  place  of  honour  in  the  rear,  provided  only  that  he 
should  not  be  troubled  with  the  baggage.'* 

This  resolution  was  received  by  the  army  with  marks  of 
unequivocal  vexation.  Retreat,  in  their  estimation,  was 
little  less  than  overthrow ;  and  it  was  most  galling  to  find 
that,  after  all  their  labours,  hazards,  and  toils,  they  were 
doomed  to  disappointment  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
prize  seemed  ready  for  their  grasp.  That  the  movement 
was  an  injudicious  one  is,  I  think,  obvious.  We  are  told, 
upon  good  authority,  '•  that  the  very  boldness  of  the 
Prince's  onward  movement,  especially  taken  into  connec- 
tion with  the  expocted  descent  from  France,  had  at  length 
disposed  the  English  Jacobites  to  come  outj  and  many 


>  ilik 


iiir 


!  I.'l 


264        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

were  just,  on  the  pr  int  of  declurinp;  themselves,  and  march- 
ing .>j  j'>Iii  hi.}  army,  when  the  retreat  from  Derby  was 
determiuod  on.  A  ittr  Barry  arrived  in  Derby  two  days 
after  the  Prince  left  it,  with  a  iuess.jge  from  Sir  Watkin 
William  Wynne  and  Lord  Barrymore,  to  assure  him,  in 
the  names  of  manv  frionds  of  the  cause,  that  they  were 
ready  to  join  him  in  what  manner  he  pleased,  either  in  the 
capital,  or  every  one  to  rise  in  his  own  country.  I  have 
likewise  been  assured  that  many  of  the  Welsh  gentry  had 
actually  left  their  homes,  and  were  on  the  way  to  join 
Charles,  when  intelligpnce  of  his  retreat  at  once  sent  them 
all  back  peaceably,  convinced  that  it  was  now  too  late  to 
contribute  their  assistance.  These  men,  from  the  power 
they  had  over  their  tenantry,  could  have  added  materially 
to  his  military  force.  In  fact,  from  all  that  appears,  we 
must  conclude  that  the  insurgents  had  a  very  considerable 
chance  of  success  from  an  onward  movement — also,  no 
doubt,  a  chance  of  destruction,  and  yet  not  worse  than 
what  ultimately  befell  many  of  them;  while  a  retreat 
broke  in  a  moment  the  spell  which  their  gallantry  had 
conjured  up,  and  gave  the  enemy  a  great  advantage  over 
them." 

One  victory  more  was  accorded  to  Prince  Charles 
before  his  final  overthrow.  After  successfully  conducting 
his  retreat  to  Scotland,  occupying  Glasgow,  and  strength- 
ening his  army  by  the  accession  of  new  recruits,  he  gave 
battle  to  the  royal  forces  under  General  Hawley  at  Fal- 
kirk, and,  as  at  Preston,  drove  them  from  the  field.  The 
parties  were  on  this  occasion  fairly  matched,  there  being 
about  eight  thousand  men  engaged  on  either  side.  The 
action  was  short ;  and,  though  not  so  decisive  as  the 
foiULGX  one,  gaye  groat  con£deiic.e  to  the  insurgents.    It 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES. 


265 


has  been  thus  picturesquely  portrayed  by  the  historian  of 
the  enterprise : — "  Some  individuals,  who  beheld  the 
battle  from  the  steeple  of  Falkirk,  used  to  describe  its 
main  events  as  occupying  a  surprisingly  brief  space  of 
time.  They  first  saw  the  English  army  enter  the  misty 
and  storm-covered  muir  at  the  top  of  the  hill ;  then  saw 
the  dull  atmosphere  thickened  by  a  last-rolling  smoke, 
and  heard  the  pealing  sounds  of  the  discharge ;  imme- 
diately after,  they  beheld  the  discomfited  troops  burst 
wildly  from  the  cloud  in  which  they  had  been  involved, 
and  rush  in  far-spread  disorder  over  the  face  of  the  hill. 
From  the  commencement  to  what  they  styled  '  the  break 
of  the  battle,'  there  did  not  intervene  more  than  ten 
minutes — so  soon  may  an  efficient  body  of  men  become, 
by  one  transient  emotion  of  cowardice,  a  feeble  and  con- 
temptible rabble. 

"The  rout  would  have  been  total,  but  for  the  three 
out-flanking  regiments.  These  not  having  been  opposed 
by  any  of  the  clans,  having  a  ravine  in  front,  and  deriv- 
ing some  support  from  a  small  body  of  dragoons,  stood 
their  ground  under  the  command  of  General  Huske  and 
Brigadier  Cholmondley.  When  the  Highlar  dcrs  went 
past  in  pursuit,  they  remived  a  volley  from  this  part  of 
the  English  army,  which  brought  them  to  a  pause,  and 
caused  them  to  draw  back  to  tbcir  former  ground,  their 
impression  being  that  some  ambuscade  was  intended.  This 
saved  the  English  army  from  destruction.  A  pause  took 
place,  during  which  the  bulk  of  the  English  infantry  got 
back  to  Falkirk.  It  was  not  until  Lord  George  Murray 
brought  up  the  second  line  of  his  wing  and  the  pickets, 
with  some  others  on  the  other  wing,  that  General  Huske 
drew  off  his  party,  which  he  did  in  good  order." 


!' 


2C6         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Tho  seat  of  war  was  now  removed  to  the  North.  The 
montli  of  April  174()  found  Prince  Charleys  in  poHsoHsion 
of  InvernoHH  with  an  army  sorely  dwindled  in  nuniberfl, 
and  in  fi;rout  want  of  necoH8arieH  and  provisions.  Many 
of  tho  Highlanders  had  retired  for  tho  winter  to  their 
native  glens,  and  had  not  yet  rejoined  the  standard.  Tho 
Duke  of  Cumberland,  who  now  commanded  the  English 
army,  with  a  reputation  not  diminished  by  the  unfortunate 
issue  of  Fontenoy,  was  at  the  head  of  a  largo  body  of  tried 
and  disciplined  troops,  in  the  hot  condition,  and  supported 
by  tho  powerful  arm  of  artillery. 

Ho  effected  the  passage  of  the  Spey,  a  large  and  rapid 
river  which  intersects  the  Highlands,  without  encountering 
any  opposition,  and  on  the  15th  of  the  month  had  arrived 
at  Nairn,  about   nine   miles   distant   from   the    position 
ocoupied  by  his  kinsman  and  opponent.     His  superiority 
in  point  of  strength  was  so  great  that  the  boldest  of  tho 
insurgent  chiefs  hesitated  as  to  tho  policy  of  giving  imme- 
diate  battle;    and  nothing  but   the  desire   of  covering 
Inverness  prevented  the   council  from  recommending  a 
further  retreat  into  the  mountains,  where  they  could  no  t 
have  been  easily  followed,  and  where  they  were  certain  to 
have  met  with  reinforcements.     As  to  the  Prince,  his 
confidence  in  the  prowess  of  the  Highlanders  was  so  un- 
bounded, that,  even  with  such  odds  against  him,  he  would 
not  listen  to  a  proposal  for  delay. 

There  yet  remained,  says  Mr  Chambers,  before  playing 
the  great  stake  of  a  pitched  battle,  one  chance  of  success, 
by  the  irregular  mode  of  warfare  to  which  the  army  was 
accustomed  ;  and  Charles  resolved  to  put  it  to  trial.  This 
was  a  night  attack  upon  the  camp  of  the  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland.    He   rightly    argued,   that  if  his    men   could 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES. 


267 


approncli  without  being  dlscovored,  and  m:ikc  a  Riraul- 
tuncouH  attiick  in  more  than  one  jilice,  the  royjil  forces,  then 
probably  either  engaged  in  drinking  their  commander's 
health  (the  15th  happened  to  bo  the  anniversary  of 
the  Duko'H  birthduy,  and  was  oelebrutcd  as  8uch  by  hia 
army),  or  Bleeping  off  the  effects  of  the  debauch,  must  be 
completely  surprised  and  cut  to  pieces,  or  at  least  effec- 
tually routed.  The  time  appointed  for  setting  out  upon 
the  march  was  eight  in  the  evening,  when  daylight  should 
have  completely  disappeared;  and,  in  the  mean  time, groat 
pains  were  taken  to  conceal  the  secret  from  the  army. 

This  resolution  was  entered  into  at  three  in  the  after- 
noon, and  orders  were  given  to  collect  the  men  who  had 
gone  off  in  search   of  provisions.     The  officers  dispersed 
themselves  to  Inverness  and   other  places,  and  besought 
the   stragglers  to  repair  to   the   muir.     But,  under  the 
influence  of  hunger,  they  told  their  commanders  to  shoot 
them  if  they  pleased,  rather  than  compel  them  to  starve 
any  longer.     Charles  had  previously  declared,  with  his 
characteristic  fervour,  that  though  only  a  thousand  of  his 
men  should  accompany  him,  he  would  lead  them  on  to  the 
attack;   and   ho  was  not  now  intimidated  when  he  saw 
twice  that   number   ready    to   assist   in    the  enterprise; 
though  some  of  his  officers  would  willingly  have  made  this 
deficiency  of  troops  an  excuse  for  ab  andoning  what  they 
esteemed  at  best  a  hazardous  expedition.     Having  given 
out  for  watchword  the  name  of  his  father,  he  embraced 
Lord  George  Murray,  who  was  to  command  the  foremost 
column,  and,  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  that  which 
followed,  gave  the  order  to  march. 

The  attempt  proved  peculiarly  unfortunate,  and  from 
the  fatigue  which  it  occasioned  to  the  Highlanders,  con- 


•*»K«-1lil*l«-< 


f(       :i 


268         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALTKRS. 

tributcd  in  a  great  degree  towards  the  disiister  of  the 
following  day.  The  nigl»t  olianood  to  bo  unoonnnonly 
dark,  and  jus  it  was  well  known  that  Ciimberl.nid  had 
etJitioned  spies  on  the  principal  roads,  it  beeanio  noccpsary 
to  select  a  devious  rouU?,  in  order  to  effect  a  surprise. 
The  columns,  proceeding  over  broken  and  irregular  ground, 
soon  became  scattered  and  dislocated ;  no  exertions  of  the 
officers  could  keep  the  men  together,  so  that  Lord  Oeorgo 
Murray  at  two  o'clock  found  that  he  was  still  distant 
three  miles  from  the  hostile  camp,  and  that  there  were  no 
hopes  of  commencing  the  attack  before  the  break  of  day, 
when  they  would  be  open  to  the  observation  of  the  enemy. 
Under  tl^^se  circumstances  a  retreat  was  commenced;  and 
the  scheme,  which  at  one  time  seemed  to  liold  out  every 
probability  of  success,  was  abandoned. 

*'  The  H'ghlanders  returned,  fatigued  and  disconsolate, 
to  their  former  position,  about  seven  in  the  morning, 
when  they  immediately  addressed  themselves  to  sleep,  or 
went  away  in  search  of  provisions.  So  scarce  was  food  at 
this  critical  juncture,  that  the  Prince  himself,  on  retiring 
to  Culloden  House,  could  obtain  no  better  refreshment 
than  a  little  bread  and  whisky.  He  felt  the  utmost  anxiety 
regarding  his  men,  among  v^hom  the  pangs  of  hunger, 
upon  bodies  exhausted  by  fatigue,  must  have  been  work- 
ing effects  most  unpromising  to  his  success ;  and  he  gave 
orders,  before  seeking  any  repose,  that  the  whole  country 
should  now  be  mercilessly  ransacked  for  the  means  of 
refreshment.  His  orders  were  not  without  effect.  Con- 
siderable supplies  were  procured,  and  subjected  to  the 
cook's  art  at  Inverness ;  but  the  poor  famished  clansmen 
were  destined  never  to  taste  these  provisions,  the  hour  of 


rioffl.l    •«  »«».I  ^Tl «  o*    r\/lfil 


K/aucxu   vex  1. 1,  Ti  mi. 


V  \J-i  V  i  Vf     ViiV 


Imxr     llT/lfll     T\l«OT\Ol«j 


\:x  "«*    i/*  virv 


^A  " 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES,        269 

About  clevon  in  the  forenoon,  the  troops  of  Cumberland 
were  observed  upon  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  wide 
muir  of  Culloden,  and  preparations  were  instantly  made 
for  the  coming  battle.  The  army  had  been  strengthened 
that  morning  by  the  arrival  of  the  Keppoch  Macdonalds 
and  a  party  of  the  Frasers ;  but,  even  with  these  rein- 
forcements, the  whole  available  force  which  the  Prince 
could  muster  was  about  five  thousand  men,  to  oppose  at 
feiirful  odds  an  enemy  twice  as  numerous,  and  heavily 
supported  by  artillery.  Fortune  on  this  day  seemed  to 
have  deserted  the  Prince  altogether.  In  drawing  out  the 
line  of  battle,  a  most  unlucky  arrangement  was  made  by 
O'Sullivan,  who  acted  as  adjutant,  whereby  the  Macdonald 
regiments  were  removed  from  the  right  wing — the  place 
which  the  groat  Clan  Coila  has  been  privileged  to  hold 
in  Scottish  array  ever  since  the  auspicious  battle  of 
Bannockburn.  To  those  who  are  not  acquainted  with  the 
peculiar  temper  and  spirit  of  the  Highlanders,  and  their 
punctilio  upon  points  of  honour  and  precedence,  the 
question  of  arrangement  will  naturally  appear  a  matter  of 
little  importance.  But  it  was  not  so  felt  by  the  Mac- 
donalds, who  considorcd  their  change  of  position  as  a 
positive  degradation,  and  who  further  looked  upon  it  as  an 
evil  omen  to  the  success  of  the  battle.  The  results  of 
this  mistake  will  be  noticed  immediately. 

Just  before  the  commencement  of  the  action,  the  wea- 
ther, which  had  hitherto  been  fair  and  sunny,  became 
overcast,  and  a  heavy  blast  of  rain  and  sleet  beat  directly 
in  the  faces  of  the  Highlanders.  The  English  artillery  then 
began  to  play  upon  them,  and,  being  admirably  served, 
every  discharge  told  with  fearful  effect  upon  the  ranks. 
The  chief  object  of  either  party  at  the  battle  of  Cuiiodea 


270         LAT8  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


seems  to  have  been  to  force  its  opponent  to  leave  his  posi- 
tion, and  to  commence  the  attack.  Cumberland,  findino* 
that  his  artillery  was  doing  such  execution,  had  no  occa- 
sion to  move ;  and  Charles  appears  to  have  committed  a 
great  error  in  abandoning  a  mode  of  warfare  which  was 
peculiarly  suited  for  his  troops,  and  which  on  two  previous 
occasions  had  proved  eminently  successful.  Had  he  at 
once  ordered  a  general  charge,  and  attempted  to  silence  the 
guns,  the  issue  of  the  day  mis^ht  have  been  otherwise ;  but 
his  unfortunate  star  prevailed. 

"  It  was  not,"  says  Mr  Chambers,  "till  the  cannonade 
had  continued  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  the  Highlanders 
had  seen  many  of  their  kindred  strei  ^hed  upon  the  heath, 
that  Charles  at  last  gave  way  .;o  the  necessity  of  order- 
ing a  charge.  The  aide-de-camp  intrusted  to  carry  his 
message;  to  the  lieutenant-general— a  youth  of  the  name  of 
Maclachlan— was  killed  by  a  cannon-bill  before  he  reached 
the  first  line ;  but  the  general  sentiment  of  the  army,  as 
reported  to  Lord  George  Murray,  supplied  the  want,  and 
that  general  took  it  upon  him  to  order  an  ittack  without 
Charles's  permission  having  been  communicated. 

"  Lord  George  had  scarcely  determined  upon  ordering  a 
general  movement,  when  the  Macintoshes,  a  brave  and 
devoted  clan,  though  not  before  engaged  in  action,  unable 
any  longer  to  brook  the  unavenged  slaughter  made  by  the 
cannon,  broke  from  the  centre  of  the  line,  and  rushed  for- 
ward through  smoke  and  snow  to  mingle  with  the  enemy. 
The  Athole  men,  Camerons,  Stuarts,  Frasers,  and 
Macleans,  also  went  on;  Lord  George  Murray  heading 
them  with  that  rash  bravery  befitting  the  commander  of 
such  forces.  Thus,  in  the  course  of  one  or  two  minutes, 
the  charge  was  general  along  the  whole  line,  except  at  the 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.  271 

left  extremity,  where  the   Macdonalds,  dissatisfied  with 
their  position,  hesitated  to  engage. 

"  The  action  and  event  of  the  onset  were,  throughout, 
quite  as  dreadful  as  the  mental  emotion  which  urged  it! 
Notwithstanding  that  the  three  files  of  the  front  fine  of 
English  poured  forth  their  incessant  fire  of  musketry— 
notwithstanding  that  the  cannon,  now  loaded  with  grape- 
shot,  swept  the  field  as  with  a  hail-storm-notwithstanding 
the  flank  fire  of  Wolfe's  regiment— onward,  onward  went 
the  headlong  Highlanders,  flinging  themselves  into,  rather 
than  rushing  upon,  the  lines  of  the  enemy,  which,  indeed, 
they  did  not   see   for    smoke,    till    involved  among  the 
weapons.     All  that  courage,  all  that  despair  could  do,  was 
done.     It  was  a  moment  of  dreadful  and  agonising  sus- 
pense, but  only  a  moment— for  the  whirlwind  does  not 
reap  the  forest  with  greater  rapidity  than  the  Highlanders 
clear-d  the  line.     Nevertheless  almost  every  man  in  their 
f.ont  rank,   chief  and  gentleman,  fell  before  the  deadly 
weapons  which  they  had  braved  :  and  although  the  enemy 
gave    vay,   it  was  not  till  every  bayonet  was  bent  and 
bloody  'v>i*th  the  strife. 

"When  ^he  ^rst  line  had  thus  been  swept  aside,  the 
assailants  continued  their  impetuous  advance  till  they 
came  near  the  second,  when,  being  almost  annihilated  by 
a  profuse  and  well-directed  fire,  the  shattered  remains  of 
what  had  been  before  a  numerous  and  confident  forco 
began  to  give  way.  Still  a  few  rushed  on,  resolved  rather 
to  die  than  forfeit  their  well-acquired  and  dearly  estimated 
honour.  They  rushed  on ;  but  not  a  man  ever  came  in 
contact  with  the  enemy.  The  last  survivor  perished  as 
he  reached  tne  points  of  the  bayonets." 


272 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVAhlERS, 


Sumo  idea  of  the  dotcrininatioti  diHplnyod  by  tho 
IlighlandorB  in  tliin  torritio  oliurjjjo  may  bo  gathered  from 
tho  fact  that,  in  one  part  of  the  tiehl,  their  bodies  wero 
ailerwards  found  in  htyors  of  throo  and  fowr  deep.  Tho 
iskughtor  w»w  fearful,  I'or,  out  of  tho  live  regiments  which 
oliargod  tho  English,  almost  all  tho  leaders  and  moti  in 
tho  front  rank  wore  killed.  So  shaken  wn;}  tho  English 
lino,  that,  had  tho  Mncdonald  regiments,  well  known  to 
yield  in  valour  to  none  of  the  clans,  come  up,  tho  fortune 
of  tho  day  might  have  boon  altered.  But  they  never 
made  an  onset.  Smarting  and  sullen  at  tho  aftVont  which 
they  oonoejived  to  have  been  put  upon  their  name,  they 
bore  tho  tiro  of  the  English  regiments  without  flinching, 
and  gave  way  to  their  rage  by  hewing  at  tho  heather 
with  their  swords.  In  vain  their  chiefs  exhorted  them 
tc  go  forward;  oven  at  that  terrible  moment  tho  prido 
of  clanship  prevailed.  "  My  God  1"  cried  Maodonald  of 
Keppoch,  '*  has  it  oomo  to  this,  that  tho  children  of  my 
tribe  have  forsaken  mo!"  and  ho  rushed  forward  alone, 
Eiword  in  hand,  with  the  devotion  of  uq  uucient  hero, 
und  fell  pierced  with  bullets. 

Tho  Lowland  and  foreign  troops  which  formed  tho 
second  line  were  powerless  to  retrieve  the  disaster.  All 
wjus  over.  The  rout  became  general,  and  tho  Prince  was 
forced  from  the  field,  which  ho  would  not  quit  until 
dragged  from  it  by  his  immediate  body-guard. 

Such  was  the  last  battle,  tho  result  of  civil  war,  which 
has  beeit  fought  on  British  soil.  Those  who  were  defeated 
have  acquired  as  much  glory  from  it  as  the  conquerors — 
and  even  niore,  for  uevor  was  a  concpiest  sullied  by  such 
deeds  of  deliberate  cruelty  as  wire  perpetrated  upon  tho 


survivors 


of  th 


^       f/UVi-iV    ISi.        -».-%« 1 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.         273 

tho  ol)jcct  of  the  proscni  papor  to  recount  those,  or  even 

the   ronmntlo    hintory   and    liafihroiiath   oHoapes  of   tlio 

Prince,  whilHt  waiulorin^^on  the  maiiil.ind  and  through  tlio 

Hebrides.     Altliough  u  reward  of  thirty  tliouHund  pounds 

(an  iinmcnHo  8uni  for  the  period)  wasHist  upon  hiHhead  — 

ttlthougii  hiH  msrot  wa.s  known  to  hundrtidH  of  nerHOUH  in 

every  walk  of  lilb,  and  even  to  the  bcKgar  and  tlio  out- 

hiw— not  one  attiiuipted  to  betray  him.     Not  one  of  all 

hiH  followerH,  in  the  niid.st  of  the  n.iHery  which  overtook 

them,  regretted  having  drawn  the  Hword  in  his  cauno,  or 

would  not  again  have  gladly  inquMilK-d  their  Hvch  for'tho 

sake  of  rhoir  beloved  Chevalier.     "  Ho  went,"  HayH  Lord 

Mahon,  -  but  net  with  l.ini   departed  bin  renienibr.nco 

from  the  IlighlanderH.     For yoarn  and  ycarH  dkl  hi.s  name 

continue  euHhrined  in  their  heartH  and  familiar  to  their 

tongues,  th(nr  plaintive  ditties  renounding  with  his  exploits 

and  mviting  his  return.      Again,  in  these  strains,  do  thoy 

declare  themselves  ready  to  risk  life  and  fortune  for  his 

cause  ;  and  even  maternal  fonduesM-the  stroi-  rest,  perhaps, 

of  all  human  ieolings—yiolds  to  the  passionate  devotion 

to  Prince  Oharlio." 

The  subsequent  life  of  the  Prince  is  a  story  of  mclan- 
clioly  interest.  We  find  him  at  first  received  in  France 
with  all  the  lionours  due  to  one  who,  though  unfortunate 
had  exhibited  a  heroism  rarely  e(iualled  and  never 
surpassed  :  gradually  he  was  ncolected  and  slighted,  as 
one  of  a  doomed  and  unliappy  race,  whom  no  human 
^xurtlon  could  aviil  to  elevate  to  th  ir  former  seat  of  power  ; 
and  finally,  when  his  presence  in  France  became  ar  fbstacle 
to  the  conclusion  of  peace,  lie  wag  violently  arrested  and 
convcyed^out.)f  the  kingdom.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that 
continued  misfbrtuno  and  disappuiutment  had  begun  very 


274         LAYS  OF  TEE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

early  to  impair  his  noble  mind.  For  long  periods  he  was  a 
wanderer,  lost  sight  of  by  .his  friends,  and  even  by  his  father 
and  brother.  There  are  fragments  of  his  writing  extant 
which  show  how  poignantly  he  felt  the  cruelty  of  his  fortune. 
**  De  vivro  et  pas  vivre  est  beuucoup  plus  que  de  mourir !" 
And  iigain,  writing  to  his  father's  secretary,  eight  years 
after  Culloden,  he  says:  "  I  am  grieved  that  our  master 
should  think  that  my  silence  was  either  neglect  or  want  of 
duty;  but,  in  reality,  my  situation  is  such  that  I  have 
nothing  lo  say  but  imprecations  against  the  fatality  of 
being  born  in  such  a  detestable  age."  An  unhappy  and 
uncongenial  marriage  tended  still  more  to  embitter  his 
exis^ioace;  and  if  at  last  he  yielded  to  frailties  which 
inevitably  insure  degradation,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
his  lot  had  been  one  to  which  few  men  have  ever  been 
exposed,  and  the  magnitude  of  his  sufferings  may  fairly 
be  admitted  as  some  paliiation  for  his  weakness. 

To  the  last  his  heart  was  with  Scotland.  The  following 
anecdote  was  related  by  his  brother.  Cardinal  York,  to 
Bishop  Walker,  the  late  Primus  of  the  Episcopal  Church 
of  Scotland:-— "M»'  Greathead,  a  personal  friend  of  Mr 
Fox,  succeeded,  when  at  Rome  in  1782  or  1783,  in 
obtaining  an  interview  ^  ith  Charles  Edward ;  and,  being 
alone  with  him  for  some  time,  studiously  led  the  conver- 
sation to  his  enterprise  in  Scotland,  and  to  the  occurrences 
which  succeeded  the  failure  of  that  attempt.  The  Prince 
manifested  some  reluctance  to  enter  upon  these  topics, 
appearing  at  the  same  time  to  undergo  so  much  mental 
suffering,  that  his  guest  regretted  the  freedom  he  had  used 
in  calling  up  the  remembrance  of  his  misfortunes.  At 
length,  however,  the  Prince  seemed  to  shake  off  the  load 
which  oppressed  him ;  his  eye  brightened,  his  lace  assumed 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.         275 

unwonted  animation,  and  he  entered  upon  the  narrative 
of  his  Scottish  campaigns  with  a  diotinct  but  somewhat 
vehement  energy  of  manner— recounted  his  marches,  his 

battles,    his   victories,    his   retreats,    and    his   defeats 

detailed  his  hairbreadth  escapes  in  the  Western  Isles,  the 
inviolable  and  devoted  attachment  of  his  Highland  friends 
and  at  length  proceeded  to  allude  to  the  terrible  penalties 
with  which  the  chiefs  among  them  had  been  visited.  But 
here  the  tide  of  emotion  rose  too  high  to  allow  him  to  go 
on — his  voice  faltered,  his  eyes  became  fixed,  and  he  fell 
convulsed  on  the  floor.  The  noise  brought  into  his  room, 
his  daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Albany,  who  happened  to  bo 
in  an  adjoining  apartment.  *  Sir,'  she  exclaimed,  'what 
is  this  ?  You  have  been  speaking  to  my  father  about 
Scotland  and  the  Highlanders  !  No  one  dares  to  mention 
those  subjects  in  his  presence.'  " 

He  died  on  the  30th  January  1788,  in  the  arms  of  the 
Master  of  Nairn.  The  monument  erected  to  him,  his 
father,  and  brother,  in  St  Peter's,  by  desire  of  George  IV., 
was  perhaps  the  riost  graceful  tribute  ever  paid  by  royalty 
to  misfortune— Regio  Cineri  Pietas  Regia. 


s 


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y. .  Ill 

CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES. 


ON  THE  ANNIVEBSAB;  07  OULLODEN. 


Take  away  that  star  and  garter — 

Hide  them  from  my  aching  sight ! 
Neither  king  nor  prince  shall  tempt  me 

From  my  lonely  room  this  night. 
Fitting  for  the  throneless  exile 

Is  the  atmosphere  of  pall, 
And  the  gusty  winds  that  shiver 

'Neath  the  tapestry  on  the  vail ; 
When  the  taper  faintly  dwindles 

Like  the  pulse  within  the  vein, 
That  to  gay  and  merry  measure 

Ne'er  may  hope  to  bound  again. 
Let  the  shadows  gather  round  me 

While  I  sit  in  silence  here, 
Broken-hearted,  as  an  orphan 

Watching  by  his  father's  bier. 
Let  me  hold  my  still  communion 

Far  from  every  earthly  sound — 
Day  of  penance — day  of  passion — 

Ever,  as  the  year  comes  round  : 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES-         277 

Fatal  day !  whereon  the  latest 

Die  was  cast  for  me  and  mine— 
Cruel  day,  that  quelled  the  fortunes 

Of  the  hapless  Stuart  line  I 
Phantom- like,  as  in  a  mirror, 

Rise  the  griesly  scenes  of  Death- 
There  before  me  in  its  wildness 

Stretches  bare  Oulloden's  heath  : 
There  the  broken  clans  are  scattered, 
Gaunt  as  wolves,  and  famine-eyed 
Hunger  gnawing  at  their  vitals, 

Hope  abandoned,  all  but  pride- 
Pride— and  that  supreme  devotion 
Which  the  Southron  never  knew 
And  the  hatred,  deeply  rankling 

'Gainst  the  Hanoverian  crew. 
Oh,  my  God  I  are  these  the  remnants 

These  the  wrecks  of  the  array, 
That  around  the  royal  standard 
Gathered  on  the  glorious  day, 
When,  in  deep  Glenfinnan's  valley 
Thousands  on  their  bended  knees 
Saw  once  more  that  stately  ensign 
Waving  in  the  northern  breeze  1 
When  the  noble  Tullibardine 

Stood  beneath  its  weltering  fold, 
With  the  Ruddy  Lion  ramping 
In  its  field  of  tressured  gold  I 
When  the  mighty  heart  of  Scotland, 

All  too  big  to  slumber  more, 
Burst  in  wrath  and  exultation 
Like  a  huge  volcano's  roar  I 


I 


278        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

There  they  stand,  the  battered  columns, 

Underneath  the  murky  sky, 
In  the  hush  of  desperation, 

Not  to  conquer,  but  to  die. 
Harkl  the  bagpipe's  fitful  wailing: 
Not  the  pibroch  loud  aa  J  shrill, 
That,  with  hope  of  bloody  ban  juet, 
Lured  the  ravens  from  the  hill — 
But  a  dirge  both  low  and  solemn, 

Fit  for  ears  of  dying  men, 
Marshalled  for  their  latest  battle, 

Never  more  to  fight  again. 
Madness— madness  1  Why  this  shrinking  ? 

Were  we  less  inured  to  war 
When  our  reapers  swept  the  harvest 

From  the  field  of  red  Dunbar? 
Bring  my  horse,  and  blow  the  trumpet 

Call  the  riders  of  Fitz-James : 
Let  Lord  Lewis  head  the  column 

Valiant  chiefs  of  mighty  names- 
Trusty  Keppoch !  stout  Glengarry  I 
Gallant  Gordon  I  wise  Locheill  I 
Bid  the  clansmen  hold  together, 
Fast  and  fell,  and  firm  as  steel. 
Elcho  1  never  look  so  gloomy — 

What  avails  a  saddened  brow  ? 
Heart,  man!  heart  1— We  need  it  sorely, 
,  Never  half  so  much  as  now. 

Had  we  but  a  thousand  troopers, 
Had  we  but  a  thousand  more  I 
Noble  Perth,  I  hear  them  coming 
Harkl  the  English  cannons'  roar. 


CHABIES  EDWAMD  AT  VERSAILLES.         279 

God  I  hoTf  awful  sounds  that  volley, 

Bellowing  through  the  mist  and  rain  I 
Was  not  that  the  Highland  slogan  ? 

Let  me  hear  that  shout  again  I 
Oh,  for  prophet  eyes  to  witness 

How  tlie  desperate  battle  goes  I 
Cumberland  I  I  would  not  fear  thee, 
Could  my  0 amorous  see  their  foes. 
Sound,  I  say,  the  charge  at  venture— 

'Tis  not  nuked  steel  we  fear : 
Better  perish  in  the  mel6e 

Than  be  shot  like  driven  deer  I 
Hold  I  the  mist  begins  to  scatter  I 
There  in  front  'tis  rent  asunder. 
And  the  cloudy  bastion  crumbles 

Underneath  the  deafening  thunder. 
There  I  see  the  scarlet  gleaming ! 

Now,  Macdonald,— now  or  never  I— 
Woe  is  me,  the  clans  are  broken  I 

Father,  thou  art  lost  for  ever! 
Chief  and  vassal,  lord  and  yeoman, 
There  they  lie  in  heaps  together. 
Smitten  by  the  deadly  volley. 

Rolled  in  blood  upon  the  heather ; 
And  the  Hanoverian  horsemen, 

Fiercely  riding  to  and  fro. 
Deal  their  murderous  strokes  at  random. 

Ah,  my  God  I  where  am  I  now  ? 

Will  that  baleful  vision  never 

Vanish  from  my  aching  sight? 
Must  those  scenes  and  sounds  of  terror 

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280        lATS  OF  ms  BOOTTISB  CAVAlUSJiS, 


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Yea  I  the  earth  hath  no  oblivion 

For  the  nuble>it  chanoe  it  gave, 
None,  Rave  In  Ita  latest  rel\ige— 

Seek  It  only  In  the  grave  t 
Love  may  die,  and  hatred  slumber, 

And  their  memory  will  decay, 
Aa  the  watered  garden  re  oka  not 

Of  the  drought  of  yesterday ; 
But  the  ditiam  of  power  once  broken. 

What  shall  give  repose  again  ? 
What  shall  oharm  the  aerpent-Airies 

Coiled  around  the  maddening  brain? 
What  kind  draii<jht  can  nature  offer 
1    Strong  enough  to  lull  their  sting  ? 
Better  to  be  born  a  peasant 

Than  to  live  an  exiled  king! 
Oh,  these  years  of  bitter  anguish  !->- 

What  is  life  to  suoh  as  me, 
With  ray  very  heart  as  palsied   . 

As  a  wasted  cripple's  knee ! 
Suppliant-like  for  alms  depending 

On  a  false  and  foreign  court ; 
Jostled  by  the  flouting  nobles, 

Half  their  pity,  half  their  sport, 
Forced  to  hold  a  place  in  pageant 

Like  a  royal  prize  of  war. 
Walking  with  dejected  features 

Close  behind  his  victor's  car ; 
Styled  an  equal — deemed  a  servant — 

Fed  with  hopes  of  future  gain :    ' 
Worse  by  far  is  fancied  freedom 

Than  tue  captive's  clanking  chain  1 


(JUAUIES  EDWARD  AT  VmSAILLES.         281 

Oould  I  change  this  gilded  bondage 

Even  for  the  duiky  tower, 
Whence  King  James  beheld  hli  lady 

Sitting  in  the  caatle  bower ; 
Blrdi  around  her  sweetly  singing, 
Fluttering  on  tlie  kindled  spray, 
And  the  comely  garden  glowing 

In  the  ligljt  of  rosy  May. 
Love  descended  to  the  window—- 

Love  removed  the  bolt  and  bar- 
Love  was  warder  to  the  lovers 
From  the  dawn  to  oven-star. 
Wherefore,  Love  I  didst  thou  betray  me  ? 

Where  is  now  the  tender  glance — 
Where  the  meaning  looks  once  lavished 

By  the  dark-eyed  Maid  of  Franco  ? 
Where  the  words  of  hope  she  whispered, 

When  around  my  neck  she  threw 
Thiit  same  scarf  of  broidered  tissue, 

Bade  rae  wear  it  and  be  true — 
Bade  me  send  it  as  a  token 

When  my  banner  waved  once  more 
On  the  castled  Keep  of  London, 

Where  my  father's  waved  before  ? 
And  I  went  and  did  not  conquer — 

But  I  brought  it  back  again — 
Brought  it  back  from  storm  and  battle—  * 

Brought  it  back  without  a  stain  j 
And  once  more  I  knelt  before  her, 

And  I  laid  it  at  her  feet, 
Saying,  "  Wilt  thou  own  it,  Princess? 
There  at  least  is  no  defeat  I " 


■91! 


>  I 


282         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Scornftilly  sbe  looked  upon  me 

With  a  measured  eye  and  cold — 
•     Scornfully  she  viewed  the  token, 

Though  her  fingers  wrought  the  gold  ; 
And  she  answered,  faintly  flushing, 

"  Hast  thou  kept  it,  then,  so  long  ? 
Worthy  matter  for  a  minstrel 

To  be  told  in  knightly  song  I 
Worthy  of  a  bold  Provencal, 

Pacing  o'er  the  peaceful  plain, 
Singing  of  his  lady's  favour. 

Boasting  of  her  silken  chain — 
Yet  scarce  worthy  of  a  warrior 

Sent  to  wrestle  for  a  crown  I 
Is  this  all  that  thou  hast  brought  me 

From  thy  fields  of  high  renown  ? 
Is  this  all  the  trophy  carried 

From  the  lands  where  thou  hast  been? 
It  was  broidered  by  a  Princess — 

Canst  thou  give  it  to  a  Queen  ?  " 

Woman's  love  is  writ  in  water  I 

Woman's  faith  is  traced  on  sand ! — 
Backwards — backwards  let  me  wander 

To  the  noble  northern  land : 
Let  me  feel  the  breezes  blowing 

Fresh  along  the  mountain-side ! 
Let  me  see  the  purple  heather, 

Let  me  hear  the  thundering  tide, 
Be  it  hoarse  as  Corrievreckan 

Spouting  when  the  storm  is  high — 
Give  me  but  one  hour  of  Scotland — 

Let  me  see  it  ere  I  die ! 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES,         283 

Oh !  my  heart  is  sick  and  heavy- 
Southern  gales  are  not  for  me  ; 
Though  the  glens  are  white  with  winter, 

Place  me  there  and  set  me  free. 
Give  me  back  my  trusty  comrades — 

Give  me  back  my  Highland  maid — 
Nowhere  beats  the  herrt  so  kindly 

As  beneath  the  tartan  plaid  I 
Flora  I  when  thou  wert  beside  me, 

In  the  wilds  of  far  Kintail— 
When  the  cavern  gave  us  shelter 

From  the  blinding  sleet  and  hail- 
When  we  lurked  within  the  thicket, 

And,  beneath  the  waning  moon, 
Saw  the  sentry's  bayonet  glimmer, 

Heard  him  chant  his  listless  tune- 
When  the  howling  storm  o'ertook  us. 

Drifting  down  the  island's  lee. 
And  our  crazy  bark  was  whirling 

Like  a  nutshell  on  the  sea — 
When  the  nights  were  dark  and  dreary, 

And  amidst  the  fern  we  lay. 
Faint  and  foodless,  sore  with  travel. 

Waiting  for  the  streaks  of  day ; 
When  thou  wert  an  angel  to  me. 

Watching  my  exhausted  sleep- 
Never  didst  thou  hear  me  murmur — 

Couldst  thou  see  how  now  I  weep  I 
Bitter  tears  and  sobs  of  anguish, 

IPna vailing  though  they  be. 
Oh  I  the  brave — the  brave  and  noble — 

That  have  died  in  vain  for  me  I 


284         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS, 


NOTES  TO  "  CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES." 


I 


"  Could  I  change  this  gilded  bondage 
Even  for  the  dusky  tower. 
Whence  King  James  beheld  his  lady  « 

Sitting  in  the  castle  bower." — P.  281. 

James  1.  of  Scotland,  one  of  the  most  accomplished  kings  that 
ever  sat  upon  a  throne,  is  the  person  here  indicated.  His  history 
is  a  very  strange  and  romantic  one.  He  was  son  of  Robert  HL, 
and  immediate  younger  brother  of  that  unhappy  Duke  of  Rothesay 
who  was  murdered  at  Falkland.  His  father,  apprehensive  of  the 
designs  and  treachery  of  Albany,  had  determined  to  remove  him, 
when  a  mere  boy,  for  a  season  from  Scotland ;  and  as  France  was 
then  considered  the  best  school  for  the  education  o^  one  so  impor- 
tait  from  his  high  position,  it  was  resolved  to  send  him  thither, 
under  the  care  of  the  Earl  of  Orkney,  and  Fleming  of  Cumber- 
nauld. He  accordingly  embarked  at  North  Berwick,  with  little 
escort— as  there  was  a  truce  for  the  time  between  England  and 
Scotland,  and  they  were  under  nc  apprehension  of  meeting  with 
any  vessels,  save  those  of  the  former  nation.  Notwithstanding 
this,  the  ship  which  carried  the  Prince  was  captured  by  an  armed 
merchantman,  and  carried  to  London,  where  Henry  IV.,  the 
usurping  Bolingbroke,  utterly  regardless  of  treaties,  committed 
him  and  his  attendants  to  the  Tower. 

"  In  vain,"  says  Mr  Tytler,  "  did  the  guardians  of  the  young 
Prince  remonstrate  against  this  cruelty,  or  present  to  Henry  a 
letter  from  the  King  his  father,  which,  with  much  simplicity, 
recommended  him  to  the  kindness  of  the  English  monarch,  should 
he  find  it  necessary  to  land  in  his  dominioas.  In  vain  did  they 
represe  it  that  the  mission  to  France  was  perfectly  pacific,  and  its 
only  object  the  education  of  the  Prince  at  the  French  Court. 
Henry  merely  answered  by  a  poor  witticism,  declaring  that  he 
himself  knew  the  French  language  indifferently  well,  and  that  his 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES,         286 

father  could  not  have  sent  him  to  a  better  master.  So  flagrant  a 
breach  of  the  Ikw  of  nations,  as  the  seizure  and  imprisonment  of 
the  heir-apparent,  during  the  time  of  truce,  would  have  called  for 
the  most  violent  remonstrances  from  any  government  except  that 
of  Albany.  But  to  this  usurper  of  the  supreme  power,  the  capture 
of  the  Prince  was  the  most  grateful  event  which  could  have 
happened  ;  and  to  detain  hira  in  captivity  became,  from  this 
moment,  one  of  the  principal  objects  of  his  future  life ;  we  are  not 
to  wonder,  then,  that  the  conduct  of  Henry  not  only  drew  forth 
no  indignation  from  the  governor,  but  was  not  even  followed  by 
any  request  that  the  Prince  should  be  set  at  liberty. 

"  The  aged  King,  already  worn  out  by  infirmity,  and  now  broken 
by  disappointment  and  sorrow,  did  not  long  survive  the  captivity 
of  his  son.  It  is  said  the  melancholy  news  were  brought  him  as 
he  was  sitting  down  to  supper  in  his  palace  of  Rothesay  in  Bute, 
and  that  the  effect  was  such  upon  his,  affectionate  but  feeble  spirit, 
that  he  drooped  from  that  day  forward,  refused  all  sustenance, 
and  died  soon  after  of  a  broken  heart." 

Jamei  was  finally  incarcerated  in  Windsor  Castle,  where  be 
endured  an  imjjrisonment  of  nineteen  years.  Henry,  though  he 
had  not  hesitated  to  commit  a  heinous  breach  of  faith,  was  not  so 
cruel  as  to  neglect  the  education  of  his  captive.  The  young  Kiig 
was  supplied  with  the  best  masters,  and  gradually  became  an 
adept  in  all  the  accomplishments  of  the  age.  He  is  a  singular 
exception  from  the  rule  which  maintains  that  monarchs  are 
indifferent  authors.  As  a  poet,  he  is  entitled  to  a  very  high  rank 
indeed— being,  I  think,  in  point  of  sweetness  and  melody  of  verse, 
not  much  inferior  to  Chaucer.  Prom  the  window  of  his  chamber 
in  the  Tower,  he  had  often  seen  a  young  lady,  of  great  beauty  and 
grace,  walking  in  the  garden  ;  and  the  admiration  which  at  once 
possessed  him  soon  ripened  into  love.  This  was  Lady  Jane 
Beaufort,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Somerset,  a  niece  of  Henry  IV., 
and  who  afterwards  became  his  queen.  How  he  loved  and  how  he 
wooed  her  is  told  in  his  own  beautiful  poem  of  "  The  King's 
Quhair,"  of  which  the  following  are  a  few  stanzas : — 

"  Now  there  was  made,  fast  by  the  towris  wall, 
A  garden  fair ;  and  in  the  corners  set 
An  arbour  green,  with  wandls  long  and  small 
Railed  about,  and  so  with  trees  set 


286        IAT8  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Was  all  the  place,  and  hawthorn  hedges  knet, 
That  lyf  was  none  walking  there  forbye, 
That  might  within  scarce  any  wight  espy. 

"  So  thick  the  boughis  and  the  leayis  greene 
Beshaded  all  the  alleys  that  there  were, 
And  mids  of  every  arbour  might  be  seen 
The  sharpe,  greene,  sweete  juniper, 
Growing  so  fair,  with  branches  here  and  there, 
That,  as  it  seemed  to  a  lyf  without, 
The  boughis  spread  the  arbour  all  about. 

"  And  on  the  smalle  greene  twistis  sat 
The  little  sweete  nightingale,  and  sung 
So  loud  and  clear  the  hymnis  consecrat 
Of  lovis  use,  now  soft,  now  loud  among, 
That  all  the  gardens  and  the  wallis  rung 
Right  of  their  song. 

"  And  therewith  cast  I  down  mine  eyes  again. 
Whereat  I  saw,  walking  under  the  tower, 
Full  secretly,  now  comen  here  to  plain. 
The  fairest  or  the  freshest  younge  flower 
T^<i  t^  That  e'er  I  saw,  methought,  before  that  hour ; 
For  which  sudden  abate,  anon  astart 
The  blood  of  all  my  body  to  my  heart. 

"  And  though  I  stood  abasit  for  a  lite, 
No  wonder  was  ;  for  why  ?  my  wittis  all 
Were  so  o'ercome  with  pleasance  and  delight- 
Only  through  letting  of  my  eyen  fall — 
That  suddenly  my  heart  became  her  thrall 
For  ever  of  free  will,  for  of  menace 
There  was  no  token  in  her  sweete  face." 


"  Wherefore,  Love!  didst  thou  betray  me  ? 
Where  is  now  the  tender  glance — 
Where  the  meaning  looks  once  lavished 

By  the  dark-eyed  Maid  qf  France  f^—V.  281. 


;  CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.         287 

There  appears  to  be  no  doubt  that  Prince  Charles  was  deeply 
attached  to  one  of  the  princesses  of  the  royal  family  of  France. 
In  the  interesting  collection  called  "  Jacobite  Memoirs,"  compiled 
by  Mr  Chambers  from  the  voluminous  MSS.  of  Bishop  Forbes,  we 
find  the  following  passage  from  the  narrative  of  Donald  Macleod, 
who  acted  as  a  guide  to  the  wanderer  whilst  traversing  the 
Hebrides:— "When  Donald  was  asked,  if  ever  the  Prince  used 
to  give  any  particular  toast,  when  they  were  taking  a  cup  of  cold 
water,  or  the  like ;  he  said  that  the  Prince  very  often  drank  to  the 
Black  Eye— by  which,  said  Donald,  he  meant  the  second  daughter 
of  France,  and  I  never  heard  him  name  any  particular  health  but 
that  alone.  When  he  spoke  of  that  lady— which  he  did  fre- 
quently—he appeared  to  be  more  thnn  ordinarily  well  pleased." 


mm 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER. 


i\ 


The  "  gentle  Locheill "  may  be  considered  as  the  pattern 
of  a  Highland  Chief.  Others  who  joined  the  insurrection 
may  have  been  actuated  by  motives  of  personal  ambition, 
and  by  a  desire  for  aggrandisement  j  but  no  such  charge 
can  be  made  against  the  generous  and  devoted  Cameron. 
He  was,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  first  who  attempted 
to  dissuade  the  Prince  from  embarking  in  an  enterprise 
which  he  conscientiously  believed  to  be  desperate;  but, 
having  failed  in  doing  so,  he  nobly  stood  firm  to  the  cause 
which  his  conscience  vindicated  as  just,  and  cheerfully  im- 
perilled his  life,  and  sacrificed  his  fortune,  for  the  sake  of 
his  master.  There  was  no  one,  even  among  those  who 
espoused  the  other  side,  in  Scotland,  who  did  not  com- 
miserate the  misfortunes  of  this  truly  excellent  man,  whose 
humanity  was  not  less  conspicuous  than  his  valour  through- 
out the  civil  war,  and  who  died  in  exile  of  a  broken  heart. 
Perhaps  the  best  type  of  the  Lowland  Cavalier  of  that 
period  may  be  found  in  the  person  of  Alexander  Forbes, 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  OAVALIER. 


289 


Lord  Pitsligo,  a  nobleman  whose  oonscientions  views  im- 
pelled him  to  take  a  different  side  from  that  adopted  by 
the  greater  part  of  his  house  and  name.     Lord  Forbes,  the 
head  of  this  very  ancient  and  honourable  family,  was  one 
of  the  first   Scottish   noblemen   who  declared  for  King 
William.     Lord  Pitaligo,  on  the  contrary,  who  had  been 
educated  abroad,  and  early  introduced  to  the  circle  at  St 
Germains,  conceived  a  deep  personal  attachment  to  the 
members  of  the  exiled  line.     He  was  anything  but  an 
enthusiast,  as  his  philosophical  and  religious  writings,  well 
'  worthy  of  a  perusal,  will  show.     He  was  the  intimate  friend 
of  F^n^lon,  and  throughout  his  whole  life  was  remarkable 
rather  for  his  piety  and  virtue  than  for  keenness  in  political 
dispute. 

After  his  return  from  France,  Lord  Pitsligo  took  his 
seat  in  the   Scottish   Parliament,  and   his  parliamentary 
career  has  thus  been  characterised  by  a  former  writer.* 
"  Here  it  is  no  discredit  either  to  his  head  or  heart  to  say, 
that,  obliged  to  become  a  member  of  one  of  the  contending 
factions  of  the  time,  he  adopted  that  which  had  for  its 
object  the  independence  of  Scotland,  and  restoration  of  the 
ancient  race  of  monarchs.     The  advantages  which  were  in 
future  to  arise  from  the  great  measure  of  a  national  union 
were  so  hidden  by  the  mists  of  prejudice,  that  it  cannot  be 
wondered  at  if  Lord  Pitsligo,  like  many  a  high-spirited 
man,  saw  nothing  but  disgrace  in  a  measure  forced  on  by 
such  corrupt  means,  and  calling  in  its  commencement  for 
such  mortifying  national  sacrifices.     The  English  nation, 
indeed,  with  a  narrow,  yet  not  unnatural  view  of  their  own 
interest,  took  such  pains  to  encumber  and   restrict  the 

*  See    Blackwood's  Magazine  for  May    1829--Article,  « Lord 
Pitsligo."  ,         «xu 


290 


LAYS  OF  THE  SOOTTISIT  CAVALIERS. 


Scottish  commoroial  privilegos,  that  it  was  not  till  the  best 
part  of  a  century  after  the  event  that  the  inoatimablo  fruits 
of  the  treaty  boj^i'n  to  be  felt  and  known.  This  distant 
period  Lord  Pitsligo  could  not  foresee.  Ho  beheld  his 
countrymen,  like  the  Israelites  of  yore,  led  into  the  desert ; 
but  his  merely  human  eye  could  not  foresee  that,  after  the 
extinction  of  a  whole  race— after  a  longer  pilgrimage  than 
that  of  the  followers  of  Moses — the  Scottish  people  should 
at  length  arrive  at  that  promised  land,  of  which  the 
favourers  of  the  Union  held  forth  so  gay  a  prospect. 

"  Looking  upon  the  Act  of  Settlement  of  the  Crown,  ' 
and  the  Act  of  Abjuration,  as  unlawful,  Lord  Pitsligo 
retired  to  his  house  in  the  country,  and  threw  up  attend- 
ance on  Parliament.  Upon  the  death  of  Queen  Anne,  he 
joined  himself  in  arms  with  a  general  insurrection  of  the 
Highlanders  and  Jacobites,  headed  by  his  friend  and  rela- 
tive the  Earl  of  Mar. 

"  Mar,  a  versatile  statesman  and  an  able  intriguer,  had 
consulted  his  ambition  rather  than  his  talents  when  he 
assumed  the  command  of  such  an  enterprise.  He  sank 
beneath  the  far  superior  genius  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  j 
and,  after  the  undecisive  battle  of  Sheriffmuir,  the  confed- 
eracy which  he  had  formed,  but  was  unable  to  direct,  dis- 
solved like  a  snowball,  and  the  nobles  concerned  in  it  were 
fain  to  fly  abroad.  This  exile  was  Lord  Pitsligo's  fate  for 
five  or  six  years.  Part  of  the  time  he  spent  at  the  Court, 
if  it  can  be  called  so,  of  the  old  Chevalier  de  Saint 
George,  where  existed  all  the  petty  feuds,  chicanery,  and 
crooked  intrigues  which  subsist  in  a  real  scene  of  the  same 
character,  although  the  objects  of  the  ambition  which 
prompts  such  acts  had  no  existence.  Men  seemed  to  play 
at  being  courtiers  in  that  illusory  Court,  as  children  play 
at  being  soldiers. " 


'  TJJ£  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER.  291 

It  would  appear  that  Lord  Pitwligo  was  not  attainted  for 
his  Hhare  in  Mar's  robollion.     He  returned  to  Scothind  in 
1720,  and  resided  at  his   castle    in    Aberdeenshire,    not 
inin^^linc,Mn  public  affairs,  but  gaining,  through  his  chiirity, 
kindness,  and  benevolence,  the  respect  and  affection  of  all 
around    him.     He   was   sixty-seven   years   of  ago   when 
Charles  Edward  landed  in  Scotland.    The  district  in  which 
the  estates  of  Lord  Pitsligo  lay  was  essentially  Jacobite, 
and  the  young  cavaliers  only  waited  for  a  fitting  leader 
to   take    up    arms   in   the    cause.       According   to   Mr 
Home,    his   example    was   decisive   of  the  movement  of 
his  neighbours :    "  So   when  he   who    was  so   wise  and 
prudent  declared  his  purpose  of  joining  Charles,  most  of 
the  gentlemen  in  that  part  of  the  country  who  favoured 
the  Pretender's  cause,  put  themselves  under  his  command, 
thinking  they  could  not  follow  a  better  or  safer  guide  than 
Lord   Pitsligo."      His   Lordship's   own   account  of  the 
motives  which  urged  him  on  is  peculiar:—"  I  was  grown 
a  little  old,  and  the  fear  of  ridicule  stuck  to  mo  pietty 
much.     I  have  mentioned  the  weightier  considerations  of 
a  family,  which  would  make  the  censure  still  the  greater 
and  set  the  more  tongues  a-going.     But  we  are  pushed  on' 
I  know  not  how  :  I  thought—I  weighed— and  I  weighed 
again.     If  there  was  any  enthusiasm  in  it,  it  was  of  the 
coldest  kind;  and  there  was  as  little  remorse  when  the 
affair  miscarried,  as  there  was  eagerness  at  the  beginning." 
The  writer  whom  I  have  already  quoted  goes  on  to  say 
— "  To  those  friends  who  recalled  his  misfortunes  of  1715 
he  replied  gaily,  '  Did  you  ever  know  me  absent  at  the 
second  day   of   a   wedding  ?'    meaning,    I  suppose,    that 
havmg  once  contracted  an  engagement,  he   did  not  feel 
entitled  to   quit  it  while  the  contest   subsisted.      Beins 


vv^ 


I 


292         LAYS  OF  TEE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

invited  by  the  gentlemen  of  the  district  to  put  himself  at 
their  head,  and  having  surmounted  his  own  desires,  he  had 
made  a  farewell  visit  at  a  neighbour's  house,  where  a  little 
boy,  a  child  of  the  family,  brought  out  a  stool  to  assist  the 
old  nobleman  in  remounting  his  horse.  *  My  little  fellow,' 
said  Lord  Pitsligo,  'this  is  the  severest  rebuke  I  Lave  yet 
received,  for  presuming  to  go  on  such  an  expedition.' 

'<  The  die  was  however  cast,  and  Lord  Pitsligo  went  to 
meet  his  friends  at  the  rendezvous  they  had  appointed  in 
Aberdeen.  They  formed  a  body  of  well-armed  cavalry, 
gentlemen  and  their  servants,  to  the  number  of  a  hundred 
men.  When  they  were  drawn  ap  in  readiness  to  commence 
the  expedition,  the  venerable  nobleman  their  leader  moved 
to  their  front,  lifted  his  hat,  and,  looking  up  to  heaven,  pro- 
nounced, with  a  solemn  voice,  the  awful  appeal, — '  0  Lord, 
Thou  knowest  that  our  cause  is  just!'  then  added  the 
signal  for  departure-—'  March,  gentlemen  !' 

"Lord  Pitsligo,  with  his  followers,  found  Charles  at 
Edinburgh,  on  0th  October  1745,  a  few  days  after  the 
Highlanders'  victory  at  Preston.  Their  arrival  was  hailed 
with  enthusiasm,  not  only  on  account  of  the  timely  rein- 
foroement3,  but  more  especially  from  the  high  charactev  of 
their  leader.  Hamilton  of  Bangour,  in  an  animated  and 
eloquent  eulogium  upon  Pitsligo,  states  that  nothing  could 
have  fallen  out  more  fortunately  for  the  Prince  than  his 
*o''ning  tbem  did— for  it  seemed  as  if  religion,  virtue,  and 
justice  were  entering  his  cgmp,  under  the  appearance  of 
this  venerable  old  man ;  and  what  would  have  given  sanc- 
tion to  a  cause  cf  the  most  dubious  right,  could  not  fail  to 
render  sacred  the  very  best." 

Although  so  far  advanced  in  years,  he  remained  in  arms 
durin"-  the  whole  campaign,  and  was  treated  with  almost 


1 
t 

s 
1 

P 
I 

0 

i 


mself  at 
I,  he  had 
3  a  little 
Bsist  the 
fellow,' 
Lave  yet 
m. 

went  to 
int-ed  in 
cavalry^ 
hundred 
mmence 
r  moved 
ven,  pro- 
0  Lord, 
ded  the 

larles  at 
ifter  the 
as  hailed 
ely  rein- 
ractev  of 
atcd  and 
Qg  could 
than  his 
tue,  and 
ranee  of 
iren  sanc- 
ot  fail  to 

in  arms 
b  almost 


;  TBM  OLD  SCOTTISB  CAVALIMB.  293 

filial  tenderness  by  the  Prince.  After  CuUoden,  he  became 
hke  many  others,  a  fugitive  and  an  outlaw,  but  he 
succeeded,  hke  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  in  findi„A 
shelter  upon  the  skirts  of  his  own  estate.  J>\^Zl  a 
mendieant,  h,s  secret  was  faithfully  kept  by  the^nanfy  • 

that  !!i  w"° '  V  """'  *""  ™""'»«"'  ''y  *"  ^oWiTr^ 
that  he  was  lurking  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood,  they 

ne™r  were  able  to  detect  him.  On  one  occasion  he  acluany 
guded  a  party  to  a  cave  on  the  sea-shore,  amidst  th. 
rough  rooks  of  Buchan,  where  it  was  rumoured  that  he  J 
lying  m  concealment;  and  on  another,  when  overtaken  by 
his  asthma,  ar.a  utterly  unable  to  escape  from  an  approach- 
•ng  patrol  of  soldiers,  ho  sat  down  by  the  waysWe,  and 
acted  his  assumed  character  so  well,  that  a  good-natured 
fellow  not  only  gave  him  alms,  but  condoled  with  him  on 
the  violence  of  his  complaint. 

For  ten  years  he  remained  concealed,  but  in  the  mean- 
time  both  title  and  estate  were  forfeited  by  attainder     His 
last  escape  was  so  very  remarkable,  that  I  maybe  pardoned 
for  giving  ,t  m  the  language  of  the  author  of  his  Memoirs 
In  March  1756,  and  of  course  long  after  all  apprc^ 
hension  of  a  search  had  cense-;,  information  bavin-,  been 
given  to  the  commanding  officer  at  Fraserbuigh  that  Lord 
Pitshgo  was  at  tiiat  moment  at  the  house  of  Auchiries  it 
was  acted  upon  with  so  much  promptness  and  secrecy  that 
the  search  must  have  proved   successful  but  for  a  very 
singular  occurrence.     Mrs  Sophia  Donaldson,  a  lady  who 
lived  much  with  the  family,  repeatedly  dreamt,  on  that 
|)artieularnif.'ht,  that  the  house  was  surrounded  by  soldiers 
Her  mind  became  so  haunted  with  the  idea,  that  she  got 
out  of  bed,  and  was  walking  through  the  room  in  hn,«„  „e 
giving  a  different  current  to  hei  thoughts  before  she  Jay 


294         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 


down  again ;  when,  day  beginning  to  dawn,  she  accident- 
ally looked  out  at  the  window  as  she  passed  it  in  traversing 
the  room,  and  was  astonished  at  actually  observing  the 
fitrures  of  soldiers  among  some  trees  near  the  house.     So 
completely  had  all  idea  of  a  search  been  by  that  time  laid 
asleep,  that  she  supposed  they  had  come  to  steal  poultry — 
Jacobite  poultry-yards  affording  a  safe  object  of  pillage  for 
the  English  soldiers   in   those   days.      Mrs    Sophia   was 
proceeding  to  rouse  the  servants,  when  her  sister  having 
awaked,  and  inquiring  what  was  the  matter,  and  being  told 
of  soldiers  near  the  house,  exclaimed  in  great  alarm  that 
she  feared  they  wanted  something  more  than  hens.     She 
beo-'^ed  Mrs  Sophia  to  look  out  at  a  window  on  the  other 
side  of  the  house,  when  not  only  were  soldiers  3een  in  that 
direction,  but  also  an  officer  giving  instructions  by  signal, 
and  frequently  putting  his  fingers  to  his  lips,  as  if  enjoin- 
ino-  silence.     There  was  now  no  time  to  be  lost  in  rousing  the 
family,  and  all  the  haste  that  could  be  made  was  scarcely 
sufficient  to  hurry  the  venerable  man  from  his  bed  into  a 
small  recess,  behind  the  wainscot  of  an  adjoining  room, 
Vhich  was  concealed   by  a  bed,   in  which  a  lady,   Miss 
Gordon  of  Towie,  who  was  there  or  a  visit,  lay,  before  the 
soldiers  obtained  admission.     A  most  minute  search  took 
place.     The  room  in  which  Lord  Pitsligo  was  concealed 
did  not  escape.     Miss  Gordon's  bed  was  carefully  exam- 
ined,  and  she  was  obliged  to  suffer  the  rude  scrutiny  of 
one  of  the  party,  by  feeling  her  chin,  to  ascertain  that  it 
was  not  a  man  in  a  lady's  night-dress.   Before  the  soldiers 
had  finished  their  examination  in  this  room,  the  confine- 
ment and  anxiety  increased  Lord  Pitsligo' s  asthma  so  much, 
and  his  breathing  became  so  loud,  that  it  cost  Miss  Gordon, 
lying  in  bed,  much  and  violent  coughing,  which  she  coun- 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER. 


295 


was 


terfeited  in  order  to  prevent  the  high  breathings  behind 
the  wainscot  from  being  heard.  It  may  easily  be  con- 
ceived what  agony  she  would  suffer,  lest,  by  overdoing  her 
part,  she  should  increase  suspicion,  and  in  fatft  lead  to  a 
discovery.  The  ruse  was  fortunately  successful.  On  the 
search  through  the  house  being  given  over.  Lord  Pitsligo 
was  hastily  taken  from  his  confined  situation,  and  again 
replaced  in  bed ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  speak,  his 
accustomed  kindness  of  heart  made  him  say  to  his  servant 
— -<  James,  go  and  see  that  these  poor  fellows  get  some 
breakfast,  and  a  drink  of  warm  ale,  for  this  is  a  cold  morn- 
ing ;  they  are  only  doing  their  duty,  and  cannot  bear  me 
any  ill-will.'  When  the  family  were  felicitating  each 
other  on  his  escape,  he  pleasantly  observed, — 'A  poor 
prize,  had  they  obtained  it— an  old  dying  man  !'  " 

This  was  the  last  attempt  made  on  the  part  of  Govern- 
ment to  seize  on  the  persons  of  any  of  the  surviving 
insurgents.  Three  years  before,  Dr  Archibald  Cameron, 
a  brother  of  Locheill,  having  clandestinely  revisited  Scot- 
land, was  arrested,  tried,  and  executed  for  high  treason  at 
Tyburn.  The  Government  was  generally  blamed  for  this 
act  of  severity,  which  was  considered  rather  to  have  been 
dictated  by  revenge  than  required  for  the  public  safety. 
It  is,  however,  probable  that  they  might  have  had  secret 
information  of  certain  negotiations  which  were  still  con- 
ducted in  the  Highlands  by  the  agents  of  the  Stuart 
family,  and  that  they  considered  it  necessary,  by  one 
terrible  example,  to  overawe  the  insurrectionary  spirit. 
This  I  believe  to  have  been  the  real  motive  of  an  execution 
which  otherwise  could  not  have  been  palliated ;  and  in  the 
case  of  Lord  Pitsligo,  it  is  ouite  nossible  that  the  zeal  of 
a  partisan  may  have  led  him  to  take  a  step  which  would 


296         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

not  have  been  approved  of  by  the  Ministry.  After  the 
lapse  of  so  many  years,  and  after  so  many  scenes  of 
judicial  bloodshed,  the  nation  would  have  turned  in  disgust 
from  the  spectacle  of  an  old  man,  whose  private  life  was 
not  only  blameless,  but  exemplary,  dragged  to  the  scaffold, 
and  forced  to  lay  down  his  head  in  expiation  of  a  doubtful 
crime;  and  this  view  derives  corroboration  from  the  fact 
that,  shortly  afterwards,  Lord  Pitsligo  was  tacitly  per- 
mitted to  return  to  the  society  of  his  friends,  without 
further  notice  or  persecution. 

Dr  King,  the  Principal  of  St  Mary's  Hall,  Oxford, 
has  borne  the  following  testimony  to  the  character  of  Lord 
Pitsligo: — '<■  Whoever  is  so  happy,  either  from  his  natural 
disposition  or  his  good  judgment,  constantly  to  observe  St 
Paul's  precept,  *  to  speak  evil  of  no  one,'  will  certainly 
acquire  the  love  and  esteem  of  the  whole  community  of 
which  he  is  a  member.  But  such  a  man  is  the  vara  avis 
in  terris ;  and,  among  all  my  acquaintance,  I  have  known 
only  one  person  to  whom  I'  can  with  truth  assign  this 
character.  The  person  I  mean  is  the  present  Lord  Pitsligo 
of  Scotland.  I  not  only  never  heard  this  gentleman  speak 
an  ill  word  of  any  man  living,  but  I  always  observed  him 
ready  to  defend  any  other  person  who  was  ill  spoken  of  in 
his  company.  If  the  person  accused  were  of  his  acquain- 
tance, my  Lord  Pitsligo  would  always  find  somethitig  good 
to  say  of  him  as  a  counterpoise.  If  he  were  a  stranger, 
and  quite  unknown  to  him,  my  Lord  would  urge  in  his 
defence  the  general  corruption  of  manners,  and  the  frailties 
and  infirmities  of  human  nature. 

"  It  is  no  wonder  that  such  an  excellent  man,  who, 
besides,  is  a  polite  scholar,  and  has  many  other  great  and' 
good  qualitieSjShould  be  universally  admired  and  beloved — 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER. 


297 


insomucli,  that  I  persuade  myself  he  has  not  one  enemy 
in  the  world.  At  least,  to  this  general  esteem  and  affec- 
tion for  his  person,  his  preservation  must  be  owing; 
for  since  his  attainder  he  has  never  removed  far  from  his 
own  house,  protected  by  men  of  different  principles,  and 
unsought  for  and  unmolested  by  Government."  To  which 
eulogy  it  might  be  added,  by  those  who  have  the  good 
fortune  to  know  his  representatives,  that  the  virtues  here 
acknowledged  seem  hereditary  in  the  family  of  Pitsligo. 

The  venerable  old  nobleman  was  permitted  to  remain 
without  molestation  at  the  residence  of  his  son,  during  the 
latter  years  of  an  existence  protracted  to  the  extreme  verge 
of  human  life.  And  so,  says  the  author  of  his  Memoirs, 
"  In  this  happy  frame  of  mind, — calm  and  full  of  hope, — 
the  saintly  man  continued  to  the  last,  with  his  reason 
unclouded,  able  to  study  his  favourite  volume,  enjoying 
the  comforts  of  friendship,  and  delighting  in  the  conso- 
lations of  religion,  till  he  gently  *  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.' 
He  died  on  the  21st  of  December  1762,  in  the  eighty- 
fifth  year  of  his  age ;  and  to  his  surviving  friends  the 
recollection  of  the  misfortunes  which  had  accompanied  him 
through  his  long  life  was  painfully  awakened  even  in  the 
closing  scene  of  his  mortal  career — as  his  son  had  the 
mortification  to  be  indebted  to  a  stranger,  now  the  pro- 
prietor of  his  ancient  inheritance  by  purchase  from  the 
Crown,  for  permission  to  lay  his  father's  honoured  remains 
in  the  vault  which  contained  the  ashes  of  his  family  for 
many  generations." 

Such  a  character  as  this  is  well  worthy  of  remembrance ; 
and  Lord  Pitsligo  has  just  title  to  be  ^.m^  'ed  the  last  of  the 
eld  Scottish  cavaliers.  I  trust  that,  in  adapting  the  words 
of  the  following  little  ballad  to  a  well-known  English  air, 
I  have  committed  no  unpardonable  larceny. 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER. 


H 


I. 

Comb  listen  to  another  song, 

Should  make  your  heart  beat  high, 
Bring  crimson  to  your  forehead, 

And  tbo  lustre  to  your  eye ; 

It  is  a  song  of  olden  time, 

Of  days  long  since  gone  by. 
And  of  a  baron  stout  and  bold 

Ab  e'er  wore  sword  on  thigh  I 
Like  a  brave  old  Scottish  cavalier, 
All  ©f  the  olden  time  I 


II. 

He  kept  his  castle  in  the  north, 

Hard  by  the  thundering  Spey ; 
And  a  thousand  vassals  dwelt  around. 

All  of  his  kindred  they. 
And  not  a  man  of  all  that  clan 

Had  ever  ceased  to  pray 
For  the  Royal  race  they  loved  so  well. 

Though  exiled  far  away 
From  the  steadfast  Scottish  cavaliers. 
All  of  the  olden  time ! 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER. 


299 


III. 

His  father  drew  the  righteous  sword 

For  Scotland  and  her  claims, 
Among  the  loyal  gentlemen 

And  chiefs  of  ancient  names, 
Who  swore  to  fight  or  fall  beneath 

The  standard  of  King  James, 
And  died  at  Killiecrankie  Pass, 

With  the  glory  of  the  Graemes  ; 
Like  a  true  old  Scottish  cavalier 
All  of  the  olden  time  I 

IV. 

He  never  owned  the  foreign  rule, 

No  master  he  obeyed. 
But  kept  his  clan  in  peace  at  home. 

From  foray  and  from  raid ; 
And  when  they  asked  him  for  his  oath. 

He  touched  his  glittering  blade, 
And  pointed  to  his  bonnet  blue, 

That  bore  the  white  cockade : 
Like  a  leal  old  Scottish  cavalier, 
All  of  the  olden  time ! 


V. 

At  length  the  news  ran  through  the  land — 

The  Prince  had  come  again  1 
That  night  the  fiery  cross  was  sped 

O'er  mountain  and  through  glen ; 
And  our  old  baron  rose  in  might. 

Like  a  iiou  from  his  dec. 


300 


LAYS  Of  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVAIJERS, 

And  rode  away  across  tlie  hills 
To  Charlie  and  his  menj 
With  the  valiant  Scottish  cavaliers, 
All  of  the  olden  time  I 


VI. 

He  was  the  first  that  bent  the  knee 

When  the  Standard  waved  abroad, 
He  was  the  first  that  charged  the  foe 

On  Preston's  bloody  sod ; 
And  ever,  in  the  van  of  fight, 

The  foremost  still  he  trod, 
Until  on  bleak  Culloden's  heath, 

He  gave  his  soul  to  God, 
Likea  good  old  Scottish  cavalier, 
All  of  the  olden  time  I 

VII. 

Oh  1  never  shall  we  know  again 

A  heart  so  stout  and  true — 
The  olden  times  have  passed  away, 

And  weary  are  the  new : 
The  fair  white  rose  has  faded 

From  the  garden  where  it  grew. 
And  no  fond  tears  save  those  of  heaven. 

The  glorious  bed  bedew 
Of  the  last  old  Scottish  cavalier, 
All  of  the  olden  time  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


BLIND  OLD  MILTON. 


PLA.OB  me  once  more,  my  daughter,  where  the  sun 

May  shine  upon  my  old  and  time-worn  head, 

For  the  last  time,  perchance.    My  race  is  run ; 

And  soon  amidst  the  ever-silent  dead 

I  must  repose,  it  may  be,  half  forgot. 

Yes  I  I  have  broke  the  hard  and  bitter  bread 

For  many  a  year,  with  those  who  trembled  not 

To  buckle  on  their  armour  for  the  fight, 

And  set  themselves  against  the  tyrant's  lot ; 

And  I  have  never  bowed  me  to  his  might, 

Nor  knelt  before  him— for  I  bear  within 

My  heart  the  sternest  consciousness  of  right, 

And  that  perpetual  hate  of  gilded  sin 

Which  made  me  what  I  am ;  and  though  the  stain 

Of  poverty  be  on  me,  yet  1  win 


302 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

More  honour  bj  it  than  the  blinded  train 
Who  hug  their  willing  servitude,  and  bow 
Unto  the  weakest  and  the  most  profane. 
Therefore,  with  unencumbered  soul  I  go 
Before  the  footstool  of  my  Maker,  where 
I  hope  to  stand  as  undebased  as  now! 


Child  I  is  the  sun  abroad  ?    I  fee:  my  hair 
Borne  up  and  wafted  by  the  gentle  wind, 
I  feel  the  odours  that  perfume  the  air. 
And  hear  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  behind. 
Within  my  heart  I  picture  them,  and  then 
I  almost  can  forget  that  I  am  blind. 
And  old,  and  hated  by  my  fellow-men. 
Yet  would  I  fain  once  more  behold  the  grace 
Of  nature  ere  I  die,  and  gaze  again 
Upon  her  living  and  rejoicing  face- 
Fain  would  I  see  thy  countenance,  my  child, 
My  comforter  1    I  feel  thy  dear  embrace— 
I  hear  thy  voice,  so  musical  and  mild, 
The  patient  sole  interpreter,  by  whom 
So  many  years  of  sadness  are  beguiled ; 
For  it  hath  made  my  amall  and  scanty  room 
Peopled  with  glowing  visions  of  the  past. 
But  I  will  calmly  bend  me  to  my  doom, 
And  wait  the  hour  which  is  approaching  fast. 
When  triple  light  shall  stream  upon  mine  eyes, 
And  heaven  i  .cself  be  opened  up  at  last 
To  him  who  dared  foretell  its  mysteries. 
I  have  had  visions  in  this  drear  eclipse 
Of  outward  consciousness,  and  clomb  the  skies, 
Striving  to  utter  with  my  earthly  lips 


BLIND  OLD  MILTON. 

What  the  diviner  soul  had  half  divined, 

Even  as  the  Saint  in  his  Apocalypse 

Who  saw  the  inmost  glory,  where  enshrined 

Sat  He  who  fashioned  glory.   This  hath  driven 

All  outward  strife  and  tumult  from  my  mind, 

And  humbled  me,  until  I  have  forgiven 

My  bitter  enemies,  and  only  seek 

To  find  the  strait  and  narrow  path  to  heaven. 


303 


Yet  I  am  weak — oh  I  how  entirely  weak, 
For  one  who  may  not  love  nor  suffer  more  1 
Sometimes  unbidden  tears  will  wet  my  cheek. 
And  my  heart  bound  as  keenly  as  of  yore, 
Responsive  to  a  voice,  now  hushed  to  rest, 
Which  made  the  beautiful  Italian  shore. 
In  all  its  pomp  of  summer  vineyards  drest. 
An  Eden  and  a  Paradise  to  me. 
Do  the  sweet  breezes  from  the  balmy  west 
Still  murmur  through  thy  groves,  Parthenope,^ 
In  search  of  odours  from  the  orange  bowers  ? 
Still,  on  thy  slopes  of  verdure,  does  the  bee 
Cull  her  rare  honey  from  the  virgin  flowers? 
And  Philomel  her  plaintive  chant  prolong 
'Neath  skies  more  calm  and  more  serene  than  oura, 
Making  the  summer  one  perpetual  song  ? 
Art  thou  the  same  as  when  in  manhood's  pride 
I  walked  in  joy  thy  grassy  meads  among, 
With  that  fair  youthful  vision  by  my  side. 
In  whose  bright  eyes  I  looked — and  not  in  vain  ? 
0  my  adored  angel  I  0  my  bride  I 


304 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Despite  of  years,  and  woe,  and  want,  and  pain, 
My  soul  yearns  back  towards  thee,  and  I  seem 
To  wander  with  ihee,  hand  in  hand,  again, 
By  the  bright  margin  of  that  flowing  stream. 
I  hear  again  thy  voice,  more  silver-sweet 
Than  fancied  music  floating  in  a  dream 
Possess  my  being ;  from  afar  I  greet 
The  waving  of  thy  garments  in  the  glade, 
And  the  light  rustling  of  thy  fairy  feet— 
What  time  as  one  half  eager,  half  afraid. 
Love's  burning  secret  faltered  on  my  tongue, 
And  tremulous  looks  and  broken  words  betrayed 
The  secret  of  the  heart  from  whence  they  sprung. 
Ah  me  I  the  earth  that  rendered  thee  to  heaven 
Gave  up  an  angel  beautiful  and  young, 
Spotless  and  pure  as  snow  when  freshly  driven ; 
A  bright  Aurora  for  tl    starry  sphere 
Wl^ere  all  is  love,  and  even  life  forgiven. 
Bride  of  immortal  beauty— ever  dear  I 
Dost  thou  await  me  in  thy  blest  abode  I 
While  I,  Tithonus-like,  must  linger  here, 
And  count  each  step  along  the  rugged  road ; 
A  phantom,  tottering  to  a  long-made  grave, 
And  eager  to  lay  down  my  weary  load  I 

I,  who  was  fancy's  lord,  am  fancy's  slave. 
Like  the  low  murmurs  of  the  Indian  shell 
Ta'en  from  its  coral  bed  beneath  the  wave. 
Which,  unforgetful  of  the  ocean's  swell. 
Retains  within  its  mystic  urn  the  hum 
Heard  in  the  sea-jjrrots  where  the  Nereids  dwell — 
Old  thoughts  utill  h>  .v:.t  me— unawares  they  come 
Between  me  anc  asy'  v ;  at,  nor  can  I  make 


BLIND  OLD  MI  LI  ON. 

Those  ag6d  visitors  of  borrow  dumb. 

Oh,  yet  awhile,  my  feeble  soul,  awake  I 

Nor  wander  back  with  sullen  steps  again  ; 

For  neither  pleasant  pastime  canst  thou  take 

In  such  a  journey,  nor  endure  the  pain.  ' 

The  phantoms  of  the  past  are  dead  for  thee; 

So  let  them  ever  uninvoked  remain, 

Ai.d  be  thou  calm,  till  death  shall  set  thee  free. 

Thy  flo^vers  of  hope  expanded  long  ago, 

Long  since  their  blossoms  withered  on  the  tree  : 

No  second  spring  can  come  to  make  them  blow, 

But  in  the  silent  winter  of  the  grave 

They  lie  with  blighted  love  and  buried  woe. 

I  did  not  wtfste  the  gifts  which  nature  gave, 
Nor  slothful  lay  in  the  Circean  bower  ; 
Nor  did  I  yield  myself  the  willing  slave 
Of  lust  for  pride,  for  riches,  or  for  power.      # 
No  I  in  my  heart  a  nobler  spirit  dwelt ; 
For  constant  was  my  faith  in  manhood's  dower 
Man— made  in  God'R  own  image— and  I  felt 
How  of  our  own  accord  we  courted  shame, 
Until  to  idols  like  ourselves  we  knelt, 
And  so  renounced  the  great  and  glorious  claim 
Of  freedom,  our  immortal  heritage. 
I  saw  how  bigotry,  with  spiteful  aim, 
Smote  at  the  searching  eyesight  of  the  sage ; 
How  Error  stole  behind  the  steps  of  Truth, 
And  cast  delusion  on  the  sacred  page. 
So,  as  a  cLftmpion,  even  in  early  youth 
I  waged  my  battle  with  a  purpose  keen: 
Nor  feared  the  hand  of  terror,  nor  the  tooth 
Of  sement  jealousv.     And  T  Hava  hAAn 


305 


306  MISC]^]LLANEOUl^  POEMS. 

With  starry  Galileo  in  his  cell- 
That  wise  ma^.oian  with  the  brow  serene 
Who  fathomed  space ;  and  I  hutre  seen  him  tell 
The  wonders  of  the  planetary  sphere, 
And  trace  the  ramparts  oi  heaven's  citad  :1 
On  the  cold  flag-stones  of  his  dungeon  drear. 
And  I  have  walked  with  Hampden  and  with  Vane- 
Names  once  so  gracious  to  an  English  ear- 
In  days  that  never  may  return  again. 
My  voice,  though  not  the  loudest,  hath  been  heard 
Whenever  Freedom  raised  her  cry  of  pain 
And  the  faint  effort  of  the  humble  bard 
Hath  roused  up  thousands  from  their  lethargy 
To  speak  in  words  of  thunder.    What  reward 
Was  mine,  or  theirs  ?    It  matters  not ;  for  I 
Am  but  a  leaf  cast  on  the  whirling  tide 
Without  a  hope  or  wish,  except  to  die. 
But  truth,  asserted  once,  must  still  abide, 
Unquenchable,  as  are  those  fiery  springs 
Which  day  and  night  gush  from  the  mountain  side, 
Perpetual  meteors  girt  with  lambent  wings, 
Which  the  wild  tempest  tosses  to  and  fro, 
But  cannot  conquer  with  the  force  it  brings. 

Yet  I,  who  ever  felt  another's  woo 
More  keenly  than  my  own  untold  distress 
I,  who  have  battled  with  the  common  foe. 
And  broke  for  years  the  bread  of  bitterness  j 
Who  never  yet  abandoned  or  betrayed 
The  trust  vouchsafed  me,  nor  have  ceased  to  bless, 
Am  left  alone  to  wither  in  the  uhade, 
A  weak  old  man,  deserted  by  his  kind— 
Whom  none  will  comfort  in  his  age,  nor  aid  I 


BLIND  OLD  MILTON. 


307 


Oh,  let  me  not  repine  1    A  quiet  mind, 
Gonscious  and  upright,  needs  no  other  stay ; 
Nor  can  I  grieve  for  what  I  leave  behind, 
In  the  rich  promise  of  eternal  day. 
Henceforth  to  me  the  world  is  dead  and  gone, 
Its  thorns  unfelt,  its  roses  jast  away : 
And  the  old  pilgrim,  weary  and  alone, 
Dowed  down  with  travel,  at  his  Master's  gat© 
Now  sits,  his  task  of  life-long  labour  done, 
Thankful  for  rest,  although  it  comes  so  late, 
After  sore  journey  through  this  world  of  sin. 
In  hope,  and  prayer,  and  wistfulness  to  wait, 
Until  the  door  shall  ope  and  let  him  in. 


HEEMGTIMUS. 


Hermotimus,  the  hero  of  this  ballad,  was  a  philosopher, 
or  rather  a  prophet,  of   Clazomen^,  who   possessed  the 
lacu  ty,  now  claimed  by  the  animal-magnetists,  of  effecting 
a  voluntary  separation  between  his  soul  and  body;  for  the 
former  could  wander  to  any  part  of  the  universe,  and  even 
hold   intercourse   with   supernatural   beings,    whilst  the 
senseless  frame  remained  at  home.      Hermotimus,  how- 
ever, was  not  insensible   to  the  risk  attendant  upon  this 
disunion;  since,   before   attempting  any   of  these   aerial 
flights,  he  took  the  precaution  to  warn  his  wife,  lest  ere 
the  return  of  his  soul,  the  body  should  be  rendered  an 
unfit  or  useless  receptacle.     This  accident,  which  he  so 
much  dreaded,  at  length  occurred ;  for  the  lady,  wearied 
out  by  a  succession  of  trances,  each  of  longer  duration 
than  the  preceding,  one  day  committed  his  body  to  the 
flames,  and  thus  effectually  put  a  stop  to  such  unconnu- 
bial  conduct.     He  received  divine  honours  a.  Clazomen^e 


but  must  nevertheless  remain 


it,.'  «  tviiiwic  ciaiupie  and 


HERM0TIMU8. 


309 


warning  to  all  husbands  who  carry  their  scientific  or  spiri- 
tual pursuits  so  far  as  to  neglect  their  duty  to  their 
wives. 

It  is  somewhat  curious  that  Hermotimus  is  not  the 
only  person  (putting  the  disciples  of  Mesmer  and  Dupotet 
altogether  out  of  the  question)  who  has  possessed  this 
miraculous  power.  Another  and  much  later  instance  is 
recorded  by  Dr  George  Cheyne,  in  his  work  entitled  The 
English  Malady,  or  a  Ireatise  on  Nervous  Diseases,  m 
having  come  under  his  own  observation ;  and  as  this  case 
is  exactly  similar  to  that  of  the  Prophet,  it  may  amuse 
the  reader  to  see  how  far  an  ancient  fable  may  be  illus- 
trated, and  in  part  explained,  by  the  records  of  modern 
science.  Dr  Cheyne's  patient  was  probably  cataleptic; 
but  the  worthy  physician  must  be  allowed  to  tell  his  own 
story : — 

"Colonel  Townshend,  a  gentleman  of  honour  and 
integrity,  had  for  many  years  been  afflicted  with  a 
nephritic  complaint.  His  illness  increasing,  and  his 
strength  decaying,  he  came  from  Bristol  to  Bath  in  a 
litter,  in  autumn,  and  lay  at  the  Bell  Inn.  Dr  Bavnard 
and  I  were  called  to  him,  and  attended  him  twice  a-day ; 
but  his  vomitings  continuing  still  incessant  and  obstinate 
against  all  remedies,  we  despaired  of  his  recovery.  While 
he  was  in  this  condition,  he  sent  for  us  one  morning :  we 
waited  on  him  with  Mr  Skrine  his  apothecary.  We  found 
his  senses  clear,  and  his  mind  calm :  his  nurse  and  several 
servants  were  about  him.  He  told  us  he  had  sent  for  us 
to  give  him  an  account  of  an  odd  sensation  he  had  for 
some  time  observed  and  felt  in  himself;  which  was,  that 
by  composing  himself,  he  could  die  or  expire  when  he 
pleased  ;  and  yet  by  an  effort,  or  somehow,  he  could  come 


310 


MISCELLANUOUS  POEMS. 


to  life  again,  which  he  had  sometimes  tried  before  he  sent 
for  us.     We  heard  this  with  surprise  ]  but,  as  it  was  not 
to  be  accounted  for  upon  common  principles,  we  could 
hardly  believe  the  fact  as  he  related  it,  much  less  give  any 
account  of  it,  unless  he  should  please  to  make  the  experi- 
ment before  us,  which  we  were  unwilling  he  should  do, 
lest,  in  his  weak  condition,  he  might  carry  it  too  far.     He 
continued  to  talk  very  distinctly  and   sensibly  above   a 
quarter  of  an  hour  about  this  surprising  sensation,  and 
insisted  so  much  on  our  seeing  the  trial  made,  that  we 
wore  at  last  forced  to  comply.     We  all  three  felt  his  pulse 
first— it  was  distinct,  though  small  and  thready,  and  his 
heart  had  its   usual  beating.     He  composed  himself  on 
his  back,  and  lay  in  a  still  posture  for  some  time :  while  I 
held   his  right  hand  Dr  Baynard  laid  his  hand  on  his 
heart,  and  Mr  Skrine  held  a  clean   looking-glass  to  his 
mouth.     I  found  his  pulse  sink  gradually,  tiU  at  last  I 
could  not  find  any  by  the  most  exact  and  nice  touch.     Dr 
Baynard  could  not  feel  the  least  motion  in  his  heart,  nor 
Mr  Skrine  the  least  soil  of  breath  on  the  bright  mirror  he 
held  to  his  mouth;  then  each  of  us  by  turns  examined 
his  arm,  heart,  and  breath,  but  could  not,  by  the  nicest 
scrutiny,  discover  the  least  symptom  of  life  in  him.     We 
reasoned  a  long  time  about  this  odd  appearance  as  well  as 
we  could,  and  all  of  us  judging  it  inexplicable  and  un- 
accountable;   and,    finding   he  still   continued    in    that 
condition,  we  began  to  conclude  that  he  had  indeed  carried 
the  experiment  too  far;  and  at  last  were  satisfied  he  was 
actually  dead,  and  were  just  ready  to  leave  him.     This 
continued  about  half  an  hour.     As  we  were  going  away, 
we    observed  some  motion  about  the  body;    and,   upon 
^«.««iiii«t,ivu,  ivuuu  lua  puiBu  auu  tne  mouon  of  ins  lieart 


EERMOTIMUS. 


311 


gradually  returning.  He  began  to  breathe  gently  and 
speak  softly.  We  were  all  astonished  to  the  last  degree 
at  this  unexpected  change ;  and,  after  some  further  con- 
versation with  him,  and  among  ourselves,  went  away  fully 
satisfied  as  to  all  the  particulars  of  this  fact,  but  confounded 
and  puzzled,  and  not  able  to  form  any  rational  scheme 
that  might  account  for  it." 


\- 


HERMOTIMFS. 


n 


I. 

«  Wilt  not  lay  thee  down  in  quiet  slumber  ?     • 

Weary  dost  thou  seem,  and  ill  at  rest ; 
Sleep  will  bring  thee  dreams  in  starry  number- 
Let  him  come  to  thee  and  be  thy  guest. 
Midnight  now  is  past- 
Husband  1  come  at  last 

Lay  thy  throbbing  head  upon  my  breast*" 


«  Weary  am  1,  but  my  soul  is  waking ; 

Fain  I'd  lay  me  gently  by  thy  side, 
But  my  spirit  then,  its  home  forsaking, 
Thro'  the  realms  of  space  would  wander  wide- 
Eyerything  forgot. 
What  would  be  thy  lot, 
If  I  came  not  back  to  thee,  my  bride  1 


HERM0T1MU8. 


813 


III. 

*'  Music,  like  the  lute  of  young  Apolloy 
Vibrates  even  now  ■within  mine  ear; 

Soft  and  silver  voices  bid  ue  follow — 

Yet  my  soul  is  dull  and  will  not  hear. 

Waking  it  will  stay : 

Let  me  watch  till  day —  ' 

« 
Painter  will  they  come  and  disappear." 

IV. 

"  Speak  not  thus  to  me,  my  own — my  dearest  I 

These  are  but  the  phantoms  of  thy  brain ; 
Nothing  can  befall  thee  which  thou  fearest, 
Thou  shalt  wake  to  love  and  life  again. 
Were  thy  sleep  thy  last, 
I  would  hold  thee  fast — 
Thou  shouldst  strive  against  me,  bat  in  vain. 

V. 

"  Eros  will  protect  us,  and  will  hover, 

Guardian-like,  above  thee  all  the  night, 
Jealous  of  thee,  as  of  some  fond  lover 
Chiding  back  the  rosy-fingered  light- 
He  will  be  thine  aid  : 
Canst  thou  feel  afraid 
When  his  torch  above  us  burneth  bright  ? 

VI. 

"  Lo !  the  cressets  of  the  night  are  waning, 

Old  Orion  hastens  from  the  sky ; 
Only  thou  of  all  things  art  remaining 
Unrefreshed  by  slumber — '^lou  and  I. 
Sound  and  sense  are  still, 
Even  the  distant  rill 
Murmurs  fainter  now,  and  languidly. 


314 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


VII. 

"  Come  and  rest  thee,  husband !  "—and  no  longer 

Could  the  young  man  that  fond  call  resist : 
Vainly  was  he  warned,  for  love  was  stronger— 
Warmly  did  he  press  her  to  his  breast. 
Warmly  met  she  his: 
Kiss  succeeded  kiss, 
Till  their  eyelids  closed,  with  sleep  oppressed. 

VIII. 
Soon  Aurora  left  her  early  pillow, 

And  the  heavens  grew  rosy-rich  and  rare ; 
Laughed  the  dewy  plain  and  glassy  billow, 
For  the  Golden  God  himself  was  there ; 
And  the  vapour-screen 
Rose  the  hills  between, 
Steaming  up,  like  incense,  in  the  air. 

IX. 
O'er  her  husband  sat  lone  bending— 

Marble-like  and  marble-hued  he  lay; 
Underneath  her  raven  locks  descending. 
Paler  seemed  his  face  and  ashen  grey  • 
And  so  white  his  brow, 
White  and  cold  as  snow— 
"  Husband !— Gods  I  his  soul  hath  passed  away  I" 

X. 

Raise  ye  up  the  pile  with  gloomy  shadow- 
Heap  it  with  the  mournful  cypress-bough  !— 
And  they  raised  the  pile  upon  the  meadow, 
And  they  heaped  the  mournful  cypress  too ; 
And  they  laid  the  dead 
On  bis  funeral  bed, 
And  they  kindled  up  the  flames  below. 


EERM0TIMU8' 


315 


XL 

Night  again  was  come ;  but  oh,  how  lonely 

To  the  mourner  did  that  night  appear! 
Peace  nor  rest  it  brought,  but  sorrow  only, 
Vain  repinings  and  unwonted  fear. 
Dimly  burned  the  lamp- 
Chill  the  air  and  damp — 
And  the  winds  without  were  moaning  drear. 

XII. 
Hush !  a  voice  in  solemn  whispers  speaking, 

Breaks  within  the  twilight  of  the  room ; 
And  lone,  loud  and  wildly  shrieking, 
Starts  and  gazes  through  the  ghastly  gloom. 
Nothing  sees  she  there — 
All  is  empty  air, 
All  is  empty  as  a  rifled  tomb. 

XIII. 
Once  again  the  voice  beside  her  sounded, 

Low,  and  faint,  and  solemn  was  its  tone — 
"  "  "  hv  form  nor  sh  ide  am  I  surrounded, 
/  .  jme  and  dwelling  have  I  none. 

"Q  passed  away — 
V  -    is  me  I  to-day 
Hath  robbed  me  of  myself,  and  made  me  lone. 

XIV. 

"  Vainly  were  the  words  of  parting  spoken ; 

Ever  more  must  Charon  turn  from  me. 
Still  my  thread  of  life  remains  unbroken, 
And  unbroken  ever  it  must  be ; 
Only  they  may  rest 
Whom  the  Fates'  behest 
From  their  mortal  mansion  setteth  free. 


316 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

XV. 

"  I  have  seen  the  robes  of  Hermes  glisten- 
Seen  him  wave  atiar  his  serpent  wand  ; 
But  to  me  the  Herald  would  not  listen- 
When  the  dead  swept  by  at  his  command, 
Not  with  that  pale  crew 
Durst  I  venture  too — 
Ever  shut  for  me  the  quiet  land. 

XVI. 

"  Day  and  night  before  the  dreary  portal, 

Phantom-shapes,  the  guards  of  Hades,  lie  ; 
None  of  heavenly  kind,  nor  yet  of  mortal, 
May  unchallenged  pass  the  warders  by. 
None  that  path  may  go, 
If  he  cannot  show 
His  drear  passport  to  eternity. 

xvir. 

"  Cruel  was  the  spirit-power  thou  gavest— 

Fatal,  0  Apollo,  was  thy  love  I 
Pythian  I  Archer  I  brightest  God  and  bravest. 
Hear,  oh  hear  me  (rom  thy  throne  above  I 
Let  me  not,  I  pray, 
Thus  be  cast  away ; 
Plead  for  me,  thy  slave—0  plead  to  Jove  I 

xvm. 

« I  have  heard  thee  with  the  Muses  singing- 
Heard  that  full  melodious  voice  of  thine. 

Silver-clear  throughout  the  ether  ringing- 
Seen  thy  locks  in  golden  clusters  shine  ; 
And  thine  eye  so  bright, 

Hath  ere  now  been  bent  so  low  as  mine. 


HERMOTIMUS. 


317 


XIX. 
"  Hast  thou  lost  the  wish— the  will— to  cherish 

Those  who  trusted  in  thy  godlike  power? 
Hyacinthus  did  not  wholly  perish  1 
Still  he  lives,  the  firstling  of  thy  bower; 
Still  he  feels  thy  rays, 
Fondly  meets  thy  gaze, 
Though  but  now  the  spirit  of  a  flower. 

XX. 

"  Hear  me,  Ph^jebus  !    Hear  me  and  deliver! 

Lo  1  the  morning  breaketh  from  afar — 
God  !  thou  comest  bright  and  great  as  ever — 
Night  goes  back  before  thy  burning  car ; 
All  her  lamps  are  gone — 
Lucifer  alone 
Lingers  still  for  thee—the  blessed  star! 

XXI. 

"  Hear  me,  Phoebus  !  "—And  therewith  descended 

Through  the  window-arch  a  glory-gleam. 
All  effulgent— and  with  music  blended ; 
For  such  solemn  sounds  arose  as  stream 
From  the  Memnon-lyre, 
When  the  morning  fire 
Gilds  the  giant's  forehead  with  its  beam. 

XXII. 

"  Thou  hast  heard  thy  servant's  prayer,  Apollo  1 

Thou  dost  call  me,  mighty  God  of  Day! 
Fare-thee-well,  lone  !  "—And  more  hollow 
Came  the  phantom  voice,  then  died  away. 
When  the  slaves  arose, 
Not  in  calm  repose — 
Not  in  sleep^but  death,  their  mistress  lay. 


(ENONE. 


On  the  holy  mount  of  Ida, 

Where  the  pine  and  cypress  grow, 
Sate  a  young  and  lovely  woman, 

Weeping  ever,  weeping  low. 
Drearily  throughout  the  forest 

Did  the  winds  of  autumn  blow, 
And  the  clouds  above  were  flying 

And  Scamander  rolled  below. 

"  Faithless  Paris  I  cruel  Paris  I" 
Thus  the  poor  deserted  spake— 

«  Wherefore  thus  so  strangely  leave  me? 
Why  thy  loving  bride  forsake? 

Why  no  tender  word  at  parting- 
Why  no  kiss,  no  farewell  take? 

Would  that  I  could  but  forget  thee ! 

!.u  luro  imuwwiug  ucari  mignt  DreaJt! 


(ENONE^ 

"  Is  my  face  no  lon^^r  blooming  ? 

Aro  my  eyes  no  longer  bright? 
Ah  I  my  tears  have  made  them  dimmer, 

And  my  cheeks  aro  palo  and  white. 
I  have  wept  since  early  morning, 

I  shall  weep  the  livelong  night; 
Now  I  long  for  sullen  darkness, 

As  I  once  have  longed  for  light. 

**  Paris  1  canst  thou  then  be  cruel  I 

Fair,  and  young,  and  brave  thou  art — 
Can  it  be  that  in  thy  bosom 

laes  so  cold,  so  hard  a  heart? 
Children  were  we  bred  together — 

She  who  bore  me  suckled  thee  j 
I  have  been  thine  old  companion, 

When  thou  hadst  no  more  but  me. 


319 


"  I  haT  e  watched  thee  in  thy  slumbers, 

When  the  shadow  of  a  dream 
Passed  across  thy  smiling  features, 

Like  the  ripple  on  a  stream ; 
And  so  sweetly  were  the  visions 

Pictured  there  with  lively  grace, 
That  I  half  could  read  their  import 

By  the  changes  on  thy  face. 


"  When  I  sang  of  Ariadne, 
Sang  the  old  and  mournful  tale, 

How  her  faithless  lover,  Theseus, 
Left  her  to  lament  and  wail  j 


320  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Then  thine  eyes  would  fill  and  glisten, 
Her  complaint  could  soften  thee : 

Thou  hast  wept  for  Ariadne^ 
Theseus'  self  might  weep  for  me  I 


Thou  may'st  find  another  maiden 

With  a  fairer  face  than  mine— 
With  a  gayer  voice  and  sweeter, 

And  a  spirit  liker  thine ; 
For  if  e'er  my  beauty  bound  thee. 

Lost  and  broken  is  the  spell ; 
But  thou  canst  not  find  another 

That  will  love  thee  half  so  well. 

"  0  thou  hollow  ship,  that  bearest 

Paris  o'er  the  faithless  deep  I 
Wouldst  thou  leave  him  on  some  island 

Where  alone  the  waters  weep ; 
Where  no  humat  foot  is  moulded 

In  the  wet  and  yellow  sand- 
Leave  him  there,  thou  hollow  vessel! 

Leave  him  on  that  lonely  strand  I 

"  Then  his  heart  will  surely  soften, 

When  his  foolish  hopes  decay. 
And  his  older  love  rekindle, 

As  the  new  one  dies  away. 
Visionary  hills  will  haunt  him, 

Rising  from  the  glassy  sea. 
And  his  thoughts  will  wander  homeward 

Unto  Ida  and  to  uw. 


(ENONE. 

«  0 1  that  like  a  little  swallow 
I  could  reach  that  lonely  spot  I 

All  his  errors  would  be  pardoned, 

•  AW  the  weary  past  forgot. 

Never  should  he  wander  from  me— 
Never  should  he  more  depart; 

For  these  arms  would  be  his  prison, 
And  his  home  would  be  my  heart  1 " 

Thus  lamented  fair  CEnone, 

Weeping  ever,  weeping  low, 
On  the  holy  Mount  of  Ida, 

Where  the  pine  and  cypress  grow. 
In  the  self-same  hour  Cassandra 

Shrieked  her  prophecy  of  woe, 
And  into  the  Spartan  dwelling 

Did  the  faithless  Paris  go. 


Z2r\ 


THE  BUEIED  FLOWER. 


I. 

In  the  silence  of  my  chamber, 
When  the  night  is  still  and  deep, 

And  the  drowsy  heave  of  ocean 
Mutters  in  its  charmed  sleep, 

n. 

Oft  I  hear  the  angel  voices 

That  have  thrilled  me  long  ago,— 
Voices  of  my  lost  companions, 

Lying  deep  beneath  the  snow. 


IIL 

0,  the  garden  I  remember, 
In  the  gay  and  sunny  spring. 

When  our  laughter  made  the  thickets 
And  the  arching  alleys  ring  t 


THE  BURIED  FLOWER. 


323 


IV. 

0  the  merry  burst  of  gladness  I 

0  the  soft  aud  tender  tone  I 
0  the  whisper  never  uttered 

Save  to  one  fond  ear  alone  I 

V. 

0  the  light  of  life  that  sparkled 
In  those  bright  and  bounteous  eyes  I 

0  the  blush  of  happy  beauty, 
Tell-tale  of  the  heart's  surprise  I 

VI. 

0  the  radiant  light  that  girdled 
Field  and  forest,  land  and  sea^ 

When  we  all  were  young  together, 
And  the  earth  was  new  to  mel 

VII. 

Where  are  now  the  flowers  we  tended  ? 

Withered,  broken,  branch  and  stem ; 
Where  are  now  the  hopes  we  cherished  ? 

Scattered  to  the  winds  with  them. 

VIII. 

For  ye,  too,  were  flowers,  ye  dear  ones ! 

Nursed  in  hope  and  reared  in  love, 
Looking  fondly  b/er  upwai'd 

To  the  clear  blue  hea,ven  above : 

IX. 

Smiling  on  the  sun  that  cheered  ua, 
Rising  lightly  from  the  rain. 

Never  folding  up  your  freshness 
Save  to  give  it  forth  again: 

V 


324 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

X. 

Never  shaketa,  save  by  accent? 

From  a  tongue  that  was  not  free, 
As  the  modest  blossotti  trembles 

At  the  wooing  of  the  bee. 

XI. 
0 1  ^tis  sad  to  lie  and  reckon 

All  the  days  of  faded  youth, 
All  the  vows  that  we  believed  in. 

Ail  the  words  we  spoke  in  truth. 

XII. 
Severed — ^were  it  severed  only 

By  an  idle  thought  of  strife, 
Such  as  time  may  knit  together ; 

Not  the  broken  chord  of  life  I 

XIII. 
0  my  heart  1  that  once  so  truly 

Kept  another's  time  and  tune ; 
Heart,  that  kindled  in  the  morning, 

Look  around  thee  in  the  noon  I 

XIV. 
Where  are  they  who  gave  the  impulse 

To  thy  earliest  thought  and  flow? 
Look  across  the  ruined  garden--- 

All  are  withered,  drooped,  or  low  I 

XV. 

Seek  the  birthplace  of  the  Lily^ 
Dearer  to  the  boyish  dream 

Than  the  golden  cups  of  Eden, 
Floating  on  its  slumberous  stream ; 


TJSE  BURIED  FLOWER, 

XVI. 

Never  more  shalt  thou  behold  her- 
She,  the  noblest,  fairest,  best : 

She  that  rose  in  fullest  beauty, 
Like  a  queen,  above  the  rest. 

xvn. 

Only  still  I  keep  her  image 
As  a  thought  that  cannot  die ; 

He  who  raised  the  shade  of  Helen 
Had  no  greater  power  than  I. 

XVIII. 
0 1  I  fling  my  spirit  backward, 

And  I  pass  o'er  years  of  pain  r 
All  I  loved  is  rising  round  me, 

All  the  lost  returns  again. 

XIX. 

Blow,  for  ever  blow,  ye  breezes, 
Warmly  as  ye  did  before 

Bloom  again,  ye  happy  gardens, 
With  the  radiant  tints  of  yore  I 

XX. 

Warble  out  in  spray  and  thicket, 
All  ye  choristers  unseen,; 

Let  the  leafy  woodland  echo 
With  an  anthem  to  its  queen  i 

XXL 

Lo !  she  Cometh  in  her  beauty, 
Stately  with  a  Juno  grace, 

Raven  locks.  Madonna-braided 
O'er  her  sweet  and  blushiiig  &ce : 


;8;26 


f 
*■ 


326 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


XXII. 
Eyes  of  deepest  riolet,  beaming 

With  the  love  that  knows  not  shame- 
Lips,  that  thrill  my  inmost  being, 

With  the  utterance  of  a  name. 

XXIII. 
And  I  bend  the  knee  before  her, 

As  a  captive  ought  to  bow, — 
Pray  thee,  listen  to  my  pleading, 

Sovereign  of  my  soul  art  tboul 

XXIV. 

0  my  dear  and  gentle  lady  I 
Let  me  show  thee  all  my  pain, 

Ere  the  words  that  late  were  prisoned 
Sink  into  my  heart  again. 

XXV. 
Love,  they  say,  is  very  fearful 

Ere  its  curtain  be  withdrawn. 
Trembling  at  the  thought  of  error 

As  the  shadows  scare  the  fawn. 

XXVI. 
Love  hath  bound  me  to  thee,  lady 

Since  the  well-remembered  day 
When  I  first  beheld  thee  coming 

In  the  light  of  lustrous  May. 

XXVII. 

Not  a  word  I  dared  to  utter- 
More  than  he  who,  long  ago, 

Saw  the  heavenly  shapes  descending 
Over  Ida's  slopes  of  snow; 


THE  JBURlSn  FLOWER. 


327 


XXVIII. 
When  a  low  and  solemn  mnsio 

Floated  through  the  listening  grove, 
And  the  throstle's  song  was  silenced, 

And  the  doling  of  the  dove  : 

XXIX. 

When  immortal  beauty  opened 

All  its  charms  to  mortal  sight, 
And  the  awe  of  worship  blended 
With  the  throbbing  of  delight. 

XXX. 

As  the  shepherd  stood  before  them 
Trembling  in  the  Phrygian  dell, 

Even  80  my  soul  and  being 
Owned  the  magic  of  the  spell; 

XXXI. 

And  I  watched  thee  ever  fondly, 
Watched  thee,  dearest !  from  afar, 

With  the  mute  and  humble  homage 
Of  the  Indian  to  a  star. 

XXXII. 
Thou  wert  still  the  lady  Flora 

In  her  morning  garb  of  bloom ; 
Where  thou  wert  was  light  and  glory. 

Where  thou  wert  not,  dearth  and  gloom. 

XXXIII. 
So  for  many  a  dtij  I  followed. 

For  a  long  and  weary  while, 
Ere  my  heart  rose  up  to  bless  thee 

For  the  yielding  of  a  smile,— 


328 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS, 

XXXIV. 

Bre  thy  worda  were  few  and  broken 
As  they  answered  back  to  mine^ 

Bre  my  lips  had  power  to  thank  thee 
For  the  gift  vouchsafed  by  thine. 

XXXV. 

Then  a  mighty  gush  of  passion 
Throuich  my  inmost  being  ran ; 

Then  my  older  life  was  ended, 
And  a  dearer  coarse  began. 

XXXVI. 
Dearer !— 0 1  I  cannot  tell  thee 

What  a  load  was  swept  away^ 
What  a  world  of  doubt  and  darkness 

Faded  in  the  dawning  day  I 

XXXVII. 

All  my  error,  all  my  weakness. 
All  my  vain  delusions  fled ; 

Hope  again  revived,  and  gladness 
Waved  its  wings  above  my  head. 

xxxvin. 
Like  the  wanderer  of  the  desert, 

When,  across  the  dreary  sand, 
Breathes  the  perfume  from  the  thickets 

Bordering  on  the  promised  land : 

XXXIX. 

When  afar  he  sees  the  palm-trees 
Cresting  o'er  the  lonely  well, 

When  he  hears  the  pleasant  tinkle 
Of  the  distant  camel's  bell : 


m 


TEE  1  U&IED  WLOWEM, 


^9 


XL, 

So  a  fresh  and  glad  emotion 
Rose  within  my  swelling  breast^ 

And  I  hurried  swiftly  onwards 
To  the  haven  of  my  rest. 

XLI. 

Thou  wert  there  with  word  and  welcome, 
With  thy  smile  so  purely  sweet ; 

And  I  laid  my  heart  before  thee, 
Laid  it,  darling!  at  thy  fee t.—— 

xm. 

0  ye  words  that  sound  so  hollow 

As  I  now  recall  your  tone  I 
What  are  ye  but  empty  echoes 

Of  a  passion  crushed  and  gone? 

XLIII. 
Wherefore  should  I  seek  to  kindle 

Light,  when  all  around  is  gloom? 
Wherefore  should  I  raise  a  phantom 

O'er  the  dark  and  silent  tcnnb? 

XLIV. 
Early  wert  thou  taken,  Mary! 

In  thy  fair  and  glorious  prime. 
Ere  the  bees  had  ceased  to  n^urmur 

Through  the  umbrage  of  the  lime. 

XLV. 
Buds  were  blowing,  waters  flowing. 

Birds  were  singing  on  the  tree, 
Everything  was  bright  and  glowing. 

When  thq  angols  CauiO  fur  tucO. 


a3o 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS, 

XLVI. 

Death  had  laid  aside  his  terror, 
And  he  found  thee  calm  and  mild. 

Lying  in  thy  robes  of  whiteness, 
Like  a  pure  and  stainless  child. 

XLVII. 
Hardly  had  the  mountain-violet 

Spread  its  blossoms  on  the  sod, 
Ere  they  laid  the  turf  abo\?e  thee, 

And  thy  spirit  rose  to  God. 

XLVIII. 
Early  wert  thou  taken,  Mary  I 

And  I  know  'tis  vain  to  weep — 
Tears  of  mine  can  never  wake  thee 

From  thy  sad  and  silent  sleep. 

XLIX. 
0  away  I  my  thoughts  are  earthward  I 

Not  asleep,  my  love,  art  thou  I 
Dwelling  in  the  land  of  glory 

With  the  saints  and  angels  now. 

L. 

Brighter,  fairer  far  than  living, 
With  no  trace  of  woe  or  pain. 

Robed  in  everlasti'^'r  beauty, 
Shall  I  see  thee  oLce  again, 

LI. 

By  the  light  that  never  fadeth. 

Underneath  eternal  skies, 
When  the  dawn  of  resurrection 

Breaks  o'er  deathless  Paradise. 


THE  OLD  CAMP. 


WRITTlj«  IN  A  ROMAN  PORTIFIOATION  IN  BAVARIA. 


I. 

There  is  a  cloud  before  the  sun, 

The  wmd  is  hushed  and  still, 
And  silently  the  waters  run 

Beneath  the  sombre  hill. 
The  sky  is  dark  in  every  place 

As  is  the  earth  below :  , 

Methinks  it  wore  the  self-same  face 

Two  thousand  years  ago. 


II. 

No  I'urht  is  on  the  ancient  wall, 
No>  light  upon  the  mound  ; 

The  very  trees,  so  thick  and  tall, 
Cast  gloom,  not  shade,  around. 

So  silent  is  the  place  aud  cold, 
So  far  from  humau  ken, 

It  hath  a  look  that  makes  me  old, 


LiiCi 


etv\r^y%rvt\n 


332 


MISCELLANEOUS  P0UM3. 


III. 

I  listen,  half  in  thought  to  hear 

The  Roman  trumpet  blow — 
I  search  for  glint  of  helm  and  spear 

Amidst  the  fori    '  bough ; 
And  armour  rings,  and  voices  swell— 

I  hear  the  legion's  tramp, 
And  mark  the  lonely  sentinel 

Who  guards  the  lonely  camp. 

IV. 

Methinka  I  have  no  other  home, 

No  other  hearth  to  find  ; 
For  nothing  save  the  thought  of  Rome 

Is  stirring  in  my  mind. 
And  all  that  I  have  heard  or  dreamed. 

And  all  I  had  forgot, 
Are  rising  up,  as  though  they  seemed 

The  household  of  the  spot, 


V. 

And  all  the  names  that  Romans  knev 

Seem  just  as  known  to  me, 
As  if  I  were  a  Roman  too — 

A  Roman  born  and  free  : 
And  I  could  rise  at  Caesar's  name, 

As  though  it  were  a  charm 
To  draw  sharp  lightning  from  the  tame, 

And  brace  the  coward's  arm. 


THE  OLD  CAMP. 


333 


VI. 

And  yet  if  yonder  sky  were  blue, 

And  earth  were  sunny  gay, 
If  nature  wore  the  witching  hue 

That  decked  her  yesterday— 
The  mound,  the  trench,  the  rampart's  space 

Would  move  me  nothing  more 
Than  many  a  sweet  sequestered  place 

That  I  have  marked  before. 

VII. 

I  could  not  feel  the  breezes  bring 

Rich  odours  from  the  trees, 
I  could  not  hear  the  linnets  sing. 

And  think  on  themes  like  these. 
The  painted  insects  as  they  pass 

In  swift  and  motley  strife, 
The  very  lizard  in  the  gras  , 

Would  scare  me  back  to  life. 


VIII. 

Then  is  the  past  so  gloomy  now 

That  it  may  never  bear. 
The  open  smile  of  nature's  brow, 

Or  meet  t'  e  sunny  air  ? 
I  know  not  that— but  joy  is  power, 

However  short  it  last ; 
And  joy  befits  the  present  hour, 

If  sadness  fits  the  past. 


DANUBE  AND  THE  EUXINE. 

1848. 


"  Danube,  Danube  I  wherefore  com'st  thou 

Red  and  raging  to  my  caves  ? 
Wherefore  leap  thy  swollen  waters 

Madly  through  the  broken  waves? 
Wherefore  is  thy  tide  so  gullied 

With  a  hue  unknown  to  me ; 
Wherefore  dost  thou  bring  pollution 

To  the  old  and  sacred  sea  ?  " 
"  Ha  1  rejoice,  old  Father  Euxine  I 

I  am  brimming  full  and  red ; 
Glorious  tokens  do  I  bring  thee 

From  my  distant  channel-bed. 
I  have  been  a  Obristian  river 

Dull  and  slow  this  many  a  year, 
Rolling  down  my  torpid  waters 

Through  a  silence  morne  and  drear; 
Have  not  felt  the  tread  of  armies 

Trampling  on  my  reedy  shore; 
Have  not  heard  the  trumpet  calling, 

Or  the  cannon's  echoing  roar; 


DANUBE  AND  THE  EUXINE. 

Only  listened  to  the  laughter 

From  the  village  and  the  town, 
And  the  church-bells,  ever  jangling, 

As  the  weary  day  went  down. 
So  I  lay  and  sorely  pondered 

On  the  days  long  since  gone  by, 
When  my  old  primaeval  forests 

Echoed  to  the  war-man's  cry ; 
"When  the  race  of  Thor  and  Odin 

Held  their  battles  by  my  side, 
And  the  blood  of  man  was  mingling 

Warmly  with  my  chilly  tide. 
Father  Euxine  1  thou  rememb'rest 

How  I  brought  thee  tribute  then — 
Swollen  corpses,  gashed  and  gory, 

Heads  and  limbs  of  slaughtered  men? 
Father  Euxine  I  be  thou  joyful  1 

I  am  running  red  once  more — 
Not  with  heathen  blood,  as  early, 

But  with  gallant  Christian  gore 
For  the  old  times  are  returning. 

And  the  Cross  is  broken  down, 
And  I  hear  the  tocsin  sounding 

In  the  village  and  the  town : 
And  the  glare  of  burning  cities 

Soon  shall  light  me  on  my  way — 
Hal  my  heart  is  big  and  jocund 

With  the  draught  I  drank  to-day. 
Ha !  I  feel  my  strength  awakened, 

And  my  brethren  shout  to  me ; 
Each  is  leaping  red  and  joyous 

To  his  own  awaiting  sea. 


335 


3D6 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS, 

Rhine  and  Elbe  are  plunging  downward 

Through  their  wild  anarchic  land, 
Everywhere  are  Christians  falling 

By  their  brother  Christians'  hand ! 
Yea,  the  old  times  are  returning. 

And  the  olden  gods  are  here  I 
Take  my  tribute,  Father  Euxine, 

To  thy  waters  dark  and  drear  I 
Therefore  come  I  with  my  torrents, 

Shaking  castle,  crag,  and  town ; 
Therefore,  with  my  arms  uplifted, 

Sweep  I  herd  and  herdsman  down ; 
Therefore  leap  I  to  thy  bosom 

With  a  loud  triumphal  roai^— 
Greet  me,  greet  me.  Father  Euxine — 

I  am  Christian  stream  no  more  1" 


THE  SCHEIK  OF  SIJfAI 


Hi  1830. 


VBOU  THB  GERMAN  OV  HtEILIGRATH. 


I. 


"Lift  me  without  the  tent,  I  say, — 

Me  and  my  ottoman, — 
I'll  see  the  messenger  myself  I 
It  is  the  caravan 
From  Africa,  thou  sayest, 
And  they  bring  us  news  of  war  ? 
Draw  me  without  the  tent,  and  quick 

As  at  the  desert-well 
The  freshness  of  the  bubbling  stream 
Delights  the  tired  gazelle, 
So  pant  I  for  the  voice  of  him 
That  cometh  from  afar!" 


338 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


II. 

The  Scheik  was  lifted  from  his  tent, 

And  thus  outspake  the  Moor : 

"  I  saw,  old  Chief,  the  Tricolor 
On  Algiers'  topmost  tower— 
Upon  its  battlements  the  silks 
Of  Lyons  flutter  free. 
Each  morning,  in  the  market-place, 

The  muster-drum  is  beat. 
And  to  the  waf-hjmn  of  Marseilles 
The  squadrons  pace  the  street. 
The  armament  from  Toulon  sailed 
The  Franks  have  crossed  the  sea. 

III.     ♦ 

"  Towards  the  south  the  columns  marched 

Beneath  a  cloudless  sky 
Their  weapons  glittered  in  the  blaze 
Of  the  sun  of  Barbary ; 
And  with  the  dusty  desert  sand 
Their  horses'  manes  were  white. 
The  wild  marauding  tribes  dispersed 

In  terror  of  their  lives  ; 
They  fled  unto  the  mountains 
With  their  children  and  their  wives 
And  urged  the  clumsy  dromedary 
Up  the  Atlas'  height. 

IV. 

"  The  Moors  have  ta'ea  their  vantage-ground 

The  volleys  thunder  fast— 
The  dark  defile  is  blazing 

Like  a  heated  oven-blast. 


THE  SCSEIK  OF  SIKAI. 

The  Lion  hears  the  strange  turmoil, 
And  leaves  his  mangled  prey — 
Ko  place  was  that  for  him  to  feed — 

And  thick  and  loud  the  cries, 
Feu  !  Allah  ! — Allah  !  En  avant  I 
In  mingled  discord  rise : 
The  Franks  have  reached  the  dummit ; 
They  have  won  the  victory  I 

V. 

"  With  bristling  steel,  upon  the  top 

The  victors  take  their  stand; 
Beneath  their  feet,  with  all  its  towns, 
They  see  the  promised  land — 
From  Tunis,  even  unto  Fez, 
From  Atlas  to  the  seas. 
The  cavaliers  alight  to  gaze ; 

And  gaze  full  well  they  may. 
Where  countless  minarets  stand  up 
So  solemnly  and  grey. 

Amidst  the  dark-green  masses 
Of  the  flowering  mrytle-trees. 


339 


VI. 

"  The  almond  blossoms  in  the  vale, 

The  alou  from  the  rock 
Throws  out  its  long  and  prickly  leaves, 
Nor  dreads  the  tempest's  shock  : 
A  blessed  land,  I  ween,  is  that, 
Though  luckless  is  its  Bey. 
There  lies  the  sea — beyond  lies  France ! 
Her  banners  in  the  air 
W 


340 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Float  proudly  and  triumphantly — 
A  salvo  I  come,  prepare ! 
And  loud  and  long  the  mountains  rang 
With  that  glad  artillery." 

VII. 

"  'Tis  they ! "  exclaimed  the  aged  Scheik. 

"  I've  battled  by  their  side— 
I  fought  beneath  the  Pyramids  1 
That  day  of  deathless  pride — 
Ked  as  thy  turban,  Moor,  thrt  eve, 
Was  every  creek  in  Nile  I 
But  tell  me"— and  he  griped  his  hand-— 

"  Their  Sultaun  ?    Stranger,  say,  — 
His  form — his  face— his  gesture,  man — 
Thou  saw'st  him  in  the  fray  ? 
His  eye— what  wore  he  ?"  ^  But  the  Moor 
Sought  in  his  vest  awhile. 


VIII. 

"  Their  Sultaun,  Scheik,  remains  at  home 

Within  his  palace  walls  ; 
He  sends  a  Pasha  in  his  stead 
To  brave  the  bolts  and  balls. 
He  was  not  there.    An  Aga  burst 
For  him  through  Atlas'  hold. 
Yet  I  can  show  thee  somewhat  too ; 

A  Frankish  Cavalier 
Told  me  his  effigy  was  stamped 
Upon  this  medal  here — 
He  gave  it  me  with  others 
For  an  Arab  steed  I  sold." 


THE  SCHEIE  OF  SINAI, 


341 


IX. 

The  old  man  took  the  golden  coin : 

Gazed  steadfastly  awhile, 
If  that  could  be  the  Sultaun 
Whom  from  the  banks  of  Nile 
He  guided  o'er  the  desert  path?— 
Then  sighed  and  thus  spake  he— 
'"Tis  not  his  eye— 'tis  not  hia  brow— 
Another  face  is  there  ; 

I  never  saw  this  man  before 

His  head  is  like  a  pear  I 
Take  back  thy  medal,  Moor— 'tis  not 
That  which  I  thought  to  see," 


EPITAPH  OF  CONSTANTINE 
KANARIS. 

VBOM  THB  OBRUAN  OV  WILHELlf  MOLLBB. 


I  AM  Constantine  Eanaris. 

I,  who  lie  beneath  this  stone, 
Twice  into  the  air  in  thunder 

Have  the  Turkish  galleys  blown. 

In  my  bed  I  died — a  Christian, 
Hoping  straight  with  Christ  to  be ; 

Yet  one  earthly  wish  is  buried 
Deep  within  the  grave  with  me — 

That  upon  the  open  ocean. 
When  the  third  Armada  uame, 

They  and  I  had  died  together, 
Whirled  aloft  on  wings  of  flame. 

Yet 'tis  something  that  they've  laid  me 

In  a  land  without  a  stain : 
Keep  it  thus,  my  God  and  Saviour, 

Till  I  rise  from  carta  ugaiu ! 


THE  EEFTJSAL  OF  CHARON.* 


FROM  THK  ROMAIC. 


Why  look  the  distant  moantaina 

So  gloomy  and  so  drear  ? 
Are  rain- clouds  passing  o'er  them, 

Or  is  the  tempest  near? 
No  shadow  of  the  tempest 

Is  there,  nor  wind  nor  rain — 
'Tis  Charon  that  is  passing  by, 

With  all  his  gloomy  train. 

The  young  men  march  before  him, 

In  all  their  strength  and  pride : 
The  tender  little  infants, 

They  totter  by  his  side ; 
The  old  men  walk  behind  him, 

And  earnestly  they  pray — 
Both  young  and  old  imploring  him 

To  grant  some  brief  delay. 

*  Accordinfirto  the  superstition  of  the  modern  Greeks,  Charon  performs 
the  function  which  their  ancestors  assigned  to  Hermes,  of  conducting 
thr  -ovUb  of  the  dead  to  the  other  world. 


' 


344 


MISCELLAITEOCIS  POEMS. 

"0  Charon  1  halt,  we  pray  thee, 

By  yonder  little  town, 
Or  near  that  sparkling  fountain, 

Where  the  waters  wimple  down  I 
The  old  will  drink  and  be  refreshed, 

The  young  the  disc  will  fling, 
And  the  tender  little  children 

Pluck  flowers  beside  the  spring." 

"  I  will  not  stay  my  Journey, 

Nor  halt  by  any  town 
Near  any  sparkling  fountain, 

Where  the  waters  wimple  down: 
The  mothers  coming  to  the  well 

Would  know  the  babes  they  bore ; 
The  wives  would  clasp  their  husbands. 

Nor  could  I  part  them  more." 


APPENDIX. 


EXAMINATION  OF  THE  STATEMENTS  IN  MR  MACAULAY'S 
HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND,  REGARDING  JOHN  GRAHAME  OF 
OLAVERHOUSE,   VISCOUNT  OP  DUNDEE. 

"  Discarding  modern  historians,  who  in  too  many  instances  do  not 
teem  to  entertain  the  slightest  scruple  in  dealing  with  the  memorg  q/ 
the  dead." 

Preface  to  Bdrial-March  op  Dundee— P.  196. 

3iNCE  the  first  edition  of  this  volume  wag  published,  Mr  Macau- 
lay's  long-promised  History  of  England  has  beea  given  to  the 
r/ublic.  Witl'.otit  wishing  in  any  way  to  detract  from  the  general 
merits  of  a  work  which  has  already  attained  so  great  popularity, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  acknowledging  with  gratitude  the  delight  I 
have  received  fiomits  perusal,  I  must  take  the  liberty  of  challeng- 
ing its  accurae^y  with  regard  to  many  of  the  details  referring  to 
Scottish  events,  more  especially  those  connected  with  the  proceed- 
ings which  were  instituted  against  the  Covenanters.  With  tho 
political  conclusions  drawi  by  the  learned  and  accomplished 
author,  I  have  of  course  nothing  to  do;  thesafall  within  the  sphere 
of  private  judgment ;  a  id  though  I  difF  r  from  him  very  largely  in 
his  estimate  both  of  m^  n  and  m^^asures,  I  am  not  entitled  to  enter 
into  such  an  argument  But  the  facts  set  forth  by  an  historian  are 
public  pronerty,  and  I  shall  now  proceed  to  examine  the  charges 
which  Mr  Macaulay  has  brought  against  Lord  Dundee,  and  the 
authoi'itieB  upou  which  those  charges  have  been  fuuuuod. 


346 


APPENDIX. 


With  reference  to  the  proceedings  In  the  west  of  Scotland  Axiv 
hig  the  year  168%  Mr  Macaulay  says:  «<  Those  shires  in  which  the 
tovenanters  were  most  numerous  wort,  given  up  to  the  licence  of 
the  army      With  the  army  was  mingled  a  militia,  composed  of  the 
most  violent  and  profligate  of  those  who  called  themselves  Epis- 
copalians.    Pre-eminent  among  the  hands  which  oppressed  and 
wasted  these  unhappy  districts  were  the  dragoons  commanded  by 
James  Graham  of  Claverhouse.     The  story  ran  that  these  wicked 
men  used  in  their  revels  to  play  at  the  torments  of  hell,  and  to  call 
each  other  by  the  names  of  devils  and  damned  souls.     The  chief 
of  this  Toi.het  on  earth,  a  soldier  of  dfstinguished  courage  and  pro- 
fessional skill,  but  rapacious  and  profane,  of  violent  temper  and 
of  obdurate  heart,  has  left  a  name  which,  wherever  the  Scottish 
race  is  settled  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  is  mentioned  with  a  pecu- 
liar  energy  of  hatred."  ^ 

These  are  hard  words :  let  us  now  see  how  they  are  iustified 

The  name  which  has  been  left  by  "the  chief  of  this  Tophet  on 

earth    is  at  all  events   not  that  which  has  been  set  forth  by  Mr 

Macaulay  in  his  History.    There  never  was  any  such  person  as 

James  Graham  of  Claverhouse.    We  know  indeed  of  one  James 

Grahame  who  was  conspicuous  in  Scottish  history,  and  his  name 

has  ere  now  been  exposed  to  as  much  calumny  and  vituperation 

a  IS  still  lavished  on  his  gallant  relative;  but  loyalists  venerate 

him  as  the  great  Marquess  of  Montrose.    John  Grahams  of  Claver- 

house  we  know  also,  and  men  spe^k  of  him  as  the  Viscount  of 

neitht\  ^"*f  ^^^^^'^"'^^'^J^^^^G-bamweknownothing; 
neither  has  that  name,  as  applied  to  Claverhouse,  a  place  in  any 
accredited  history  save  his  own.  F    «"«  any 

Jl^l^  *^^'^''  '"l*"^  *°  ^"'''*  "P^'^  »  ^^«*^^e,  which,  howerer. 
ont  ^  imCt  "^"^  V '""^"^  ''^'^'  ^'^'^'""^ '  ^'^^  ^*  '^^^'  ^ith^ 
Seotlinr^T  r'-  ^"  ™"°  ''^"^  ^^™'^'*^  ^'^^  *he  history  of 
Sco  land  could  have  committed  such  a  blunder ;  he  might  just  as 
well  have  telked  of  the  good  Sir  Joshua  of  Douglas,  or  of  Tobias 
Randolph,  Earl  of  Moray.  And,  therefore,  in  rfpeated  insane  s 
when  Scotland  or  :he  Scots  are  mentioned,  we  find  Mr  Macau- 

TTe'^nrf  °°'  r*  T""""'  ""''^  *^^  ^^^•"^'•^  ^«««^^«  °f  history. 
^^t^iJ^  T7  'a''  ?*''"'°*  '^^'  "'^'  Scottish  people"  had 
'butchered  their  first  James  in  his  bedchamber,"  which  is  just 
about  as  correct  as  if  we  were  to  say  that  the  people  of  France 
butchered  Henry  IV.,  because  that  monmh  was  a  s^ssinat^d  by 


■t?' 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  347 

Ravillac,  or  that  the  British  nation  approves  of  regicide  becanse 
a  man.ac  has  fired  at  the  Queen !  Surely  Mr  Macaulay,  before 
exerting  his  rhetoric  to  blacken  the  character  of  so  eminent  a 
personage  as  Lord  Dundee,  might  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
consult  some  record  of  the  peerage  for  his  name. 

Mr  Macaulay  is  pleased  to  stigmatise  Cluverhouse  by  usfng  the 
ep.thet     rapacious."     This  is  al  together  a  new  charge,  and  for  it 
he  has  not  vouchsafed  the  slightest  authority.    Cruel,  bloody,  and 
profane  are  epithets  with  which  we  are  familiar ;  writers  on  the 
Covenanting  side  have  used  them  over  and  over  again  •  and  if  the 
narratives  upon  which  they  proceed,  and  whichmany  of  them  con- 
Spr^^.""''  T'  '^"*'^«"^'^«ted,  they  are  unquestionably 
wo   ffoenfr7'°i;    ^"^^^P'^'^'^J^'^'I^^Peat.anewcharge.    The 
worst  foe  of  Claverhouse  never  yet  hinted  that  there  was  anything 
.  ean  or  sord-d  in  his  disposition.    No  instance  of  bribery  can  be 
alleged  against  him ;  he  levied  no  contributions;  and  with  every 
opportunity  within  his  reach  of  amassing  a  large  fortune,  he  died 
in  comparative  poverty.    I  am  certain  that  no  man  really  acquaint- 
ed  with  Scottish  history,  whatever  be  his  political  or  traditional 
opinions,  will  gainsay  me  in  this;  and  as  this  particular  charge 
has  been  brought  forward  without  a  shadow  of  authontv  to  sup- 
port It  I  can  only  express  my  regret  that  an  authorwhocan  write 
so  well  should  be  so  reckless  in  the  choice  of  his  epithets. 

The  "profanity"  imputed  to  Claverhouse  deserves  a  few  words 
So  far  as  I  can  discover,  the  charge  is  founded  upon  certain  expres- 
sions said  to  have  been  used  by  him  immediately  after  John  Brown 
the  carrier  of  Priestfield,  was  shot.    If  used,  the  charge  is  amply 
proven.    1  shall  presently  have  occasion  to  consider  the  historical 
vouchers  for  this  remarkable  story,  upon  which  so  great  stress  has 
been  laid,  and  to  state  my  grounds  for  maintaining  that  it  is  utterly 
unworthy  of  credence.    In  the  meantime,  and  as  to  the  general 
charge,  I  shall  content  myself  by  quoting  the  words  of  a  witness 
who  was  personally  acquainted  with  Dundee,  and  whose  testimony 
IS  liable  to  no  other  exception,  save  what  may  be  cast  upon  him  in 
his  capacity  of  a  gentleman  and  a  Jacobit?.    «  His  Lordship  was 
BO  nice  in  point  of  honqur,  and  so  true  to  his  word,  that  he  never 
was  known  once  to  break  it.    From  this  exactness  it  was  that  he 
once  lost  the  opportunity  of  an  easy  victory  over  Mackay  in  Strath- 
spey, by  dismissing  Captain  Forbes ;  who,  meeting  the  two  troop- 
ers sent  by  the  Lord  Kilsyth,  not  only  discovered  thatintelliu-Pncfi. 


348 


APPENDIX. 


IT".  .  "!lf^^°"^^°°^  «f  tfa«  ^\%U^n^  army,  as  1  have  fomerly 
re  ated.    Th.s  ,s  the  only  real  error   chargeable  in  his   conduct 
while  he  commanded  in  this  war.    But  this  is  the  more  excusable 
hat  jt  proceeded  from  a  principle  of  religion,  whereof  he  was 
tnctly  observant ;  for,  besides  family  worship  performed  regular! 
ly  evening  and  morning  at  his  house,  he  retired  to  his   closet  at 
certam  hours  and  employed  himself  in  that  duty.    This  I  affirm 
upon  the  testimony  of  severals  that  lived  in  his  neighbourhood  ia 
Edinburgh,  where  his  office  of  Privy  Councillor  often  obliged  him 
to  be  ;  and  particularly  from  a  Presbyterian  lady  who  lived  lonff 
m  the  story  or  house  immediately  below  his  Lordship's,  and  who 
was  otherwise  so  rigid  in  her  opinions  that  she  could  not  believe 
a  good  thing  of  any  person  of  his  persuasion,  till  his  conduct  recti- 
fied her  mistake."  * 

As  for  the  general  morality  of  the  dragoons,  I  do  not  feel  myself 
called  upon  to  prove  that  tliey  were  faultless  patterns  of  virtue. 
I  shall  not  aver,  as  Mr  Macaulay  has  done  of  the  Puritans    "  that 
in  that  singular  camp,  no  riot  was  heard,  no  drunkenness  or  gam- 
blmg  was  seen."     I  believe  that  austerity  was  never  vet  the  pre- 
vailmg  characteristic  of  any  barrack,  and  I  should  be  sorry  to 
overstate  my  case  by  random  laudations  even  of  the  Scottish  Life 
txuards.    But  when  we  are  gravely  told  that  these  soldiers  "  used 
in  their  revels  to  play  at  the  torments  of  hell,  and  to  call  each 
other  by  the  names  of  devils  and  damned  souls,"  one's  curiosity  is 
certainly  excited.     The  pastime  is  fortunately  not  a  conimon  one  • 
It  was  not  recommended  in  the  Book  of  Sports,  which  gave  such 
exo^eedmg  oftence  to  the  Puritans  :  and  the  nomenclat  .re  alleged 
to  be  employed  would  imply  an  intimate  knowIe<ige  of  Demon- 
ology  far    rom  usual  with  the  soldiery  of  that  period.    I  look  to 
Mr  Macaulay's  note  for  his  authority,  and  I  find  it  appended  in 
the  shape  of  the  venerated  name  of  Wodrow 

English  readers  can  hardly  be  supposea  to  know  what  manner 
of  man  tins  Wodrow  was,  whom,  in  preference  to  any  other  chroni- 
cler, Mr  Macaulay  has  thought  fit  to  follow  with  rcfere  ice  to  that 
period  of  Scottish  history.  It  may  theref  .re  be  proper,  very  shortlv 
to  give  a  brief  account  of  his  writings,  style,  notions,  and  credit 
Dility. 

Robert  Wodrow,  minister  at  Eastwood,  is  tolerablv  well  known 
to  Scottish  a  itiquaries  as  the  author  of  two  works-the  llktory 

*  Memoirs  of  Sir  ihoen  Cameron  qf  Loche ill. 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 


349 


of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  and  the  Analecta,  or  Materials  for  a  His- 
tory of  Remarkable  Providences,  mostly  relating  to  Scotch  Ministers 
and  Christians.    He  was  bora  in  1679,  was  consequently  a  mere 
child  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  and  gave  his  History  to  the 
world  in  1721.     That  History,  according  to  his  own  account,  was 
compiled  partly  from  existing  documents,  and  partly  from  the  nar- 
rative of  persons  who  had  orally  communicated  with  the  author; 
and  a  most  extraordinary  history  it  is,  in  every  sense  of  the  word! 
Born  in  a  credulous  age,  Wodrow  was  endowed  with  a  power  of 
credulity  which  altogether  transcended  bounds.    He  has  not  nn- 
aptly  been  styled  the  Scottish  Aubrey,  though  Aubrey  by  the  side 
of  Wodrow  would  almost  appear  a  sceptic.    The  Romish  miracles 
sink    into    iasig  lificance  compared   with  those  recorded  h-    Mr 
Macaulay's  pet  authority.    But  for  the  numerous,  though  possibly 
uninteitional  profanities,  and  the  grossness  of  some  of  the  anec- 
dotes which  are  scattered  over  its  pages,  the  Analecta  would  be 
pleasant  readiig.    We  learn  from  Wodrow  how  Elizabeth  Ken- 
nedy, sister  to  Hugh  Kennedy,  Provost  of  Ayr,  being  extremely 
ill  of  sto  le,  declined  submitting  to  a  surgical  operation,  and  how 
the  calculus  was  miraculously  dissolved  at  the  intercession  of  a 
prayer-meeting  assembled  in  her  house.     We  read  of  corpses  sit- 
ting up  in  bed,  announcing  to  the  terrified  mourners  the  judgments 
of  anotl^er  world;  of  Mr  Johi  Campbell  of  Oraigie,  minister,  who 
had  an  interview  with  the  devil— not,  however,  unprofitably,  for  he 
thereby  escaped  eating  a  poisoned  hen  for  sapper;  of  rats  which 
were  se  it  as  special  warnings  to  the  Reverend  Mr  David  William- 
son ;  of  the  ghost  of  a  barbir  which  appeared  to  the  Reverend  Mr 
William  Leslie  ;  of  a  gifted  horse  in  Annandale,  which  could  cure 
the  king's  evil ;  and  of  a  thousand  similar  instances  of  ludicrous 
superstition.     These  anecdotes  are  not  confined  to  private  individu- 
als— for  persons  of  note  and  name  are  made  to  figure  in  the  pages 
of  Wodrow.    Take  as  an  exfiraple  the  following  morceau  of  history, 
gravely  narrated  of  Archbisho[)  Sharpe  :  ''  At  another  time.  Arch- 
bishop Sharpe,  presiding  in  the  Privy  Oouncil,  was  earnest  to  have 
Janet  Douglas  brought  before  that  board,  accusing  her  of  sorcery 
and  witchcraft.     Wlien  she  was  brousrht,  she  vindicated  herself  of 
that  alleged  crime ;  declaring,  thongh  she  knew  very  well  who 
were  witches,  yet  she  was  not  one  herself,  f  )r  she  was  endeavour- 
ing to  discover  those  secret  hellish   plots,  and  to  countermine  the 
kingdom  of  darkness.    The  Archbishop  insisted  she  might  be  sent 


350 


APPENDIX. 


away  to  the  Kingr's  plantations  in  the  West  Indies.    She  only 
dropt  one  word  to  the  Bishop:-' My  Lord/  says  she,  'who  was 
you  with  in  y,)nr  closet  on  Saturday  night  last,  betwixt  twelve 
and  one  o'clock?'  upon  wliich  the  Bishop  chan}?ed  bis  countenance 
and  turned  black  and  pale,  and  then  no  more  was  said     When 
the  Council  rose  up,  the  D.ike  of  Rothes  called  Janet  into  a  room 
and  inquired  at  her  privately  '  who  that  person  was  that  was  with 
the  Bishop?'  Slie  refused  at  first ;  but  he  promising  upon  his  word 
of  honour  to  warrant  her  at  all  hands,  and  that  she  should  not  bo 
sent  to  America,  she  says,  'My  Lord,  it  was  the  meikle  black 
devil  T" 

This  is  in  reality  a  mild  specimen  of  Wodrow ;  but  it  may 
suffice  to  show  the  mental  constitution  of  the  man.    Against  his 
fairness  I  sball  make  no   charge,  though  Mr  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe 
in  hjs  notes  appended  to  Kirkton's  History,  has,  I  think,  incontost- 
ably  shown,  from  Wodrow's  existing  manuscripts,  that  he  purposely 
garbled,  or  at  least  omitted  to  quote,  such  parts  of  the  correspon- 
dence of  the  Archbishop  of  St  Aidrews  as  would  have effpctually 
refuted  some  of  the  calumnies  then  current  against  that  unfortunate 
prelate.    At  present,  I  merely  look  to  Wodrow  as  Mr  Macaulay's 
informant;  and  I  find,  on  referri-ig  to  the  History,  that  the  follow- 
ing passage  is  founded  on.    "  Dreadful,"  says  Wodrow,  «  were  the 
acts  of  wickedness  done  by  the  soldiers  at  this  time,  and  Lagg 
-was  as  deep  as  any.    They  used  to  take  to  themselves  in  their 
cabals  the  names  of  devils,  and  persons  they  supposed  to  be  in 
bell,  and  with  whips  to  lash  one  another  as  a  jest  upon  hell.    But  I 
shall  draw  a  veil  over  many  of  their  dreadful  impieties  I  meet  with 
m  papers  written  at  this  time  I "     It  is  hardly  worth  while  to 
remark  that  this  passage  does  not,  in  the  slightest  degree,  refer  to 
the  troops  under  the  command  of  Claverhouse,  but  to  the  militia 
or  local  force  which  was  raised  by  Grierson  of  Lagg.    This  story 
is  specially  told  of  Grierson  by  Howie  in  Biographia  Sco'icana-a. 
work  to  which  I  allude  simply  for  the  purpose  of  showing  against 
whom    the  legend  was  directed.    For  any  authentic  historical 
information  we  shall  search  that  Apocrypha  in  vain.    So  much 
for    Mr  Macaulay's   accuracy  in  applying  the  materials  of   his 
veracious  authority  ;  but  surely  the  absurdity  of  such  stuff  renders 
refutation  unnecessary?    Mr    Macaulay,   however,    goes    beyond 
Wodrow,  even  in  mi  luteness,  for  in  a  subsequent  paragraph  he 
particularises  the  very  names  which   were    used    a"    *h "' 


TUE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 


851 


Beelzebub  and  ApoUyonl  Ho  mij?ht  with  equal  propriety  have 
adopted  the  phraseology  of  Ancient  Pistol,  and  gravely  informed 
us  that  the  Scottish  mode  of  military  accost  was,  «  How  now, 
Mephostophilus  ?  " 

We  next  arrive  at  the  story  of  John  Brown,  which  I  am 
particularly  anxious  to  expiscute.  This  tale  is  usually  brought 
forward  as  the  crowning  instance  cf  the  cruelty  of  Olaverhouse; 
it  has  repeatedly  formed  the  subject  of  romance  and  illustration ; 
and  authors  of  no  mean  power  have  vied  with  each  other  in 
heightening  the  horror  of  its  details.  Some  of  the  grosser  fables 
regarding  that  disturbed  period  have  lost  their  hold  of  the  popular 
belief— for  exaggeration  may  sometimes  be  carried  so  far  as  entirely 
to  neutralise  its  purpose.  But  the  Priestfield  tragedy  is  still  an 
article  of  the  peasant's  creed  ;  and,  as  it  has  hitherto  been  allowed 
to  pass  without  examination,  it  has  furnished  an  overwhelming 
reply  to  those  who  deny  the  authenticity  of  the  mass  of  Covenant- 
ing tradition.  I  am  not  ashamed  to  own  that  I  have  a  deep 
regard  for  tlie  memory  of  Lord  Dundee— a  regard  founded  on  a 
firm  belief  in  his  public  and  private  virtues,  his  high  and  chivalrous 
honour,  and  his  unshaken  loyalty  to  his  sovereign.  But  those 
feelings,  however  strong,  would  never  lead  me  to  vindicate  an 
action  of  wanton  and  barbarous  cruelty,  or  even  attempt  to  lessen 
the  stigma  by  a  frivolous  or  dishonest  excuse.  No  cause  was  ever 
effectually  served  by  mean  evasion,  any  more  than  it  can  be 
promoted  by  unblushing  exaggeration  or  by  gross  'perversion  of 
facts.  The  charge  has  been  distinctly  made,  and  I  now  propose 
to  examine  the  authority  upon  which  it  is  founded,  as  gravely  and 
minutely  as  though  it  concerned  the  ciiaracter  of  the  living,  and 
not  merely  the  memory  of  the  dead.  Mr  Macaulay  shall  speak 
for  himself: — 

"John  Brown,  a  poor  carrier  of  Lanarkshire,  was,  for  his 
singular  piety,  commonly  called  the  Christian  Carrier.  Many 
years  later,  when  Scotland  enjoyed  rest,  pros[)erity,  and  religious 
freedom,  old  men,  who  remembered  the  evil  days,  described  him  as 
one  versed  in  divine  things,  blameless  in  life,  and  so  peaceable 
that  the  tyrants  could  find  no  offence  in  him,  except  that  he 
absented  himself  from  the  public  worsliip  of  the  Episcopalians. 
On  the  first  of  May  he  was  cutting  turf,  when  he  was  seized  by 
Claverhouse's  dragoons,  rapidly  examined,  convicted  of  non- 
conformity, aad  seuteuced  to  death.    It  is  said  that  even  among 


352 


APPENDIX. 


the  soldiers  it  was  not  easy  to  find  an  executioner,  for  the  wife  of 
the  poor  man  was  present.    She  led  one  little  child  by  the  hand  • 
It  was  easy  to  see  that  she  was  about  to  give  birth  to  another-  and 
even  those  wild  and    hard-hearted  men,  who    nicknamed' one 
another  Beelzebub  and  Apollyon,  shrank  from  the  great  wickedness 
of  butchering  her  husband  before  her  face.    The  prisoner  mean- 
while,  raised  above  himself  by  the  near  prospect  of   eternitv 
prayed  loud  and  fervently  as  one  inspired,  till  Claverhouse,  in  a 
tury,  shot  him  dead.    It  was  reported  by  credible  witnesses,  that 
the  widow  cried  out  in  her  agony-' Well,  sir,  well;  the  day  of 
reckoning  will  come  ; '  and  that  the  murderer  replied-'  To  man  I 
can  answer  for  what  I  have  done;  and  as  for  God,  I  will  take 
Him  into  my  own  hand.'    Yet  it  was  rumoured  th«t  even  on  his 
seared  conscience  and  adamantine  heart  the  dying  ejaculations  of 
ins  victim  made  an  impression  that  never  was  effaced  " 
^    «/"r^  is  Mr  Macaulay's   statement-well-written,' simple,  and 
affecting.    Wodrow  is  the  sole  authority  upon  which  he  founds  his 
narrative,  and  it  is  fair  to  say  thao  he  has  deviated  but  slightlv 
from  that  chronicle  except  in  one  material  point.      Wodrow  does 
not  profess  to  specify  upon  what  charge  Brown  was  examined  and 
condemned.    When  Mr  Macaulay  says  that  he  was   «  convicted  of 
non-conformity,"  he  speaks  without  any  text;  and  I  shall  present- 
ly  have  occasion  to  show  that  his  assumption  is  radically  wrong 
But,  as  he  substanftliy  adopts  the  tale  of  Wodrow,  it  is  necessary 
to  go  back  to  that  writer's  sources  of  information. 
^The  execution  of  John  Brown  is  said  to  have   taken  place  on 
tiie  1st  May  1685.     The  Revolution  occurred  in  1688;  and  Lord 
Dundee  fell  at  Killiecrankie  on  the  2.th  July  1689     Wodrow's 
History  was  first  published  in  1721,  exactly  thirty-six  years  after  the 
alleged  murder. 

These  dates  are  of  the  utmost  importance  in  considering  a 
matter  of  this  kind.  The  Episcopalian  party,  which  adhered  to 
the  cause  of  fung  James,  was  driven  from  power  at  the  Revolution, 
and  the  Episcopal  Church  proscribed.  No  mercy  was  shov^n  to 
opponents  in  the  literary  war  which  followed:  every  specfes  of 
invective  and  vituperation  was  lavished  upon  the  supporters  of 
the  fallen  dynasty.  Yet,  for  thlny-three  years  after  the  Revolution, 
tf^  details  0/  this  atrocious  murder  were  never  revealed  to  the  public! 
Nowhere  in  print  or  pamphlet,  memoir,  history,  or  declaration, 
published  previously  to  Wodrow.  does    von  the  name 


V  uuu 


I 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  353 

Brown  occur,  save  once,  in  the  Cloud  of  Witnesses-e,  work  which 
appeared  in  1714;  and  in  that   work  no  details  are  given    the 
narrative  being  comprehended  in  a  couple  of   lines      I  have 
searched  for  it  amidst  all  the  records  of  the  so-called  martyroloirv 
but  canaot  fiad  a  trace  of  it  elsewhere,  until  the  Reverend  Robert 
Wodrow  thought  fit  to  place  the  tale,  with  all  its  circumstantiality 
in  his  History.    How,   then,  came   Wodrow  to  know  anything 
about  the   murder   of  John  Brown?      He   could   have  had    no 
personal  knowledge  or  recollection  of  the  circumstance,  for  he 
was  not  quite  six  years  of  age  at  the  time  when  it  is  said  to  have 
occurred.     He  has  not  offered  one  scrap  of  evidence  in  support  of 
his  allegation,  and  merely  leaves  it  to  be  inferred  that  he  had 
derived  the  story  from  that  most  uncertain  of  all  sources,  tradition 
Even  at  the  hands  of  the  most  honest,  cautious,  and  scrupulous 
chronicler,  we  should  hesitate  to  receive  a  tale  of  this  kind ;  but 
from  Wodrow,  who  is  certainly  entitled  to  claim  none  of  the  above 
adjectives  as  applicable  to  himself,  who  will  take  it  ?    No  one  I 
should  hope,  whose  prejudice  is  not  so  strong  as  to  lead  him  to 
disregard  the  most  ordi  lary  verification  of  evidence.     Claverhouse 
had  enemies  enough  to  insure  tue  circulation  of  such  a  damning 
tale,  supposing  it  to  have  been  true,  long  before  he  had  lain  for 
two-and-thirty  years  in  his  grave.    He  was  not  without  eulogists 
whose  tribute  to  his  memory  was  as  gall  and  wormwood  to  their 
opponents,  and  in  whose  teeth,  mo?t  assuredly,  the  details  of  such 
a  dastardly  and  unprovoked  murder  would  have  been  cast.    Yet 
no  man  charged  him  with  it.     More  than  a  generation  passed  away 
-the   two   Kingdoms  had  been  united,   and  Mar's  insurrection   ' 
quelled-before    the    mirucie-mongering    minister    of    Eastwood 
ventured,  upon  no  documentary  authority  at  all,  to  concoct  and 
publish  the  story  which  Mr  Macaulay  has    adopted  without  a 
scruple. 

After  what  I  have  said,  it  may  fairly  be  asked,  whether  the  whole 
of  this  story  should  be  considered  a  mere  myth  or  fable  hatched 
from  the  brain,  or  palmed  upon  the  easy  credulity,  of  Robert 
Wodrow,  or  whether  there  are  any  grounds  for  believing  that  it  is 
at  least  founded  upon  fact?  To  this  I  should  reply,  that,  uom 
other  testimony,  the  character  a  id  complexion  of  which  I  shall 
immediately  analyse,  it  appears  to  be  true  that  John  Brown  of 
Priestlield,  or  Priesthill,  did  actually  suffer  by  miUtarv  ejcecntion 


854 


APPEnrmx. 


but  that  the  aame  testimony  utterly  contradicts  Wodrovr.  and  his 

tde  details.  Mr  Macaulay  may  not  have  known  that  such  testi- 
mony  ever  existed,  for  even  the  most  painstaking  historian  tsue 
to  pass  over  some  material  in  so  wide  a  field ;  nevertheress^s  n^ 
the  pomt  has  been  mooted,  it  may  be  a  satisfaction  to  him  to  leam 

<«fl/eie«  by  the  most  popular  work  that  ever  emanated  from  the 
Covenanting  printing-press.  ® 

Ed^nhlt/'^'''''  ^*'^'°^"  *"^  P"^^^^^*^  *t  *^«  Bristo  Port  of 

So  Mes'^  'i:T««rr'".''  "'  "  ^'^^^  ^^^^^  ^^  ^-^  ^h«  Scottish 
troubles.     In  1682,  he  and  two  other  Covenanters  were  present  at 

the  death  of  one  Francis  Gordoa,  a  volunteer  in  the  '^AZl^^, 

troop,  who,  It  seems,  was  shot  through  the  head.    Walker  i„  hi 

own  account  of  this  exploit,  first  published  in  1727,  cautiouslv 

abstains  from  indicating  the  exac.  perpetrator  of  the  deed    but 

eaves  the  glory  thereof  to  be  shared  among  the  triumvirale  '  The 

sum  of  his  confession  amounts  simply  to  this^that  he,  Gordon 

«  got  a  shot  in  his  head  out  of  a  pocket-pistol,  rather  fit  /or  d^ert 

ing  a  boy,  than  killing  such  a  furious,  mad    br-k  man ;  whlh 

notwithstanding,  killed  him  dead."     He   ;as,  moreov;r,    says 

Walker  Was  impr.soned,  and  sentenced  to  transportation,  but 
made  his  escape,  and,  after  various  vicissitudes,  set  himself  iown 
in  his  old  age  to  con^pile  the  Memoirs  of  the  Covenanters.  The 
first  of  these  tracts  did  not  appear  until  after  Wodrow's  History 

persecuted  packman  for  the  slip-slop  of  the  fair-weather  minister! 
whom  he  accuses  of  positive  dishonesty.  "I  wish  him,"  says 
Walker,  m  his  Vtndtcation  of  Cameron,  "repentance  and  forgive- 
ness for  what  unaccountable  wrongs  he  has  done  by  his  pen  to  the 
Testimony,  and  to  the  names  of  Christ's  slain  witness's  for  the 
same     For  myself  I  am  easy ;    my  tongue  is  yet  in  my  head  and 

Zp  f  Z  ^'""^^r^  ^^^*  I  b-ve  to  say  upon  that  head  for 
^self,  and  those  with  me,  will  run  faster  and  further  than  he  has 
feet  to  go.  I  am  refiecied  upon  for  my  not  giving  Mr  Wodrow 
better  information.  -4„....r.-Before  his  History  came  out,  when 
I  heard  of  his  manuscripts  going  from  .and  to  hand  among  the 
Longheads,  (I  knew  it  would  be  patched  up  according  to  the  back- 
ahdiner  spirit  of  th^  (\u^\  t  ^«c,v„j  ^i.^  r>       „    ,     *  X 

«    r  jyj  *  «voxrc«  lue  r«jv.  Mr  James  Webster  to 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 


355 


give  me  account  when  he  came  ^o  his  house,  that  I  might  have  a 
short  conversation  with  him.  Mrs  Webster  tohl  him  my  desire. 
He  answered,  he  depended  on  the  records  of  that  time."'  In  the 
same  woik  lie  characterises  Wodrow's  statements  as  "lies  and 
groundless  stories  ;"  and,  moreover,  piously  expresses  a  wish  "^^that 
Mr  Wodrow's  well-wishers  would  pray  for  him,  that  he  may  come 
to  himself  and  be  of  a  right  mind,  who  has  been  so  lavish  of  hia 
misrepresentations  and  groundless  reflections."  Puch  is  Walker's 
opinion  of  the  authenticity  of  Wodrow's  History,  though  his 
remarks  are  of  course  principally  directed  to  misrepresentations  of 
the  champions  of  the  Covenant.  But  thi-y  are  useful  as  showing 
his  impression  of  the  intrinsic  valne  of  the  work. 

Walkor's  best  and   earliest  tract  is  the  Life  of  Peden,     This 
originally  appeared  in  1724,  and  is  still  widely  circulated  among 
the  peasantry  of  Scotland.    It  is  a  strange  mixture  of  earnestness 
and  superstition;  sometimes  rugged  and  even  coarse  in  itj  style 
and  yet  at  times  rising  to  a  point  of  real  though  homt-ly  pathos! 
Peden,  the  subject  of  the  memoir,  was  an  intercommuned  minister' 
whom   the    Cuvenanters  asserted   to  have    been   endowed    with 
miraculous  prophetical  powers.    He  was  concerned  in  the  insur- 
rection of  Pentland,  and  sentenced  to  banishment,  but  liberated  br 
the  leniency  of   the  Government;    notwithstanding    which,  he 
relapsed  into  his  old  courses,  became  the  active  agent  of  rebellion 
and  so  notorious  that  he  was  expressly  marked  for  capture.     Of 
his  frequent  interviews  with  the  devil,  his  gifts  of  second-sight  and 
divination,  an-i  his  power  of  casting  out  unclean  spirits,  I  shall 
say  nothing  here.    Walker  faithfully  records  at  least  a  hundred 
such  instancps,  which  are  sufficient  %o  entitle  Peden  to  take  rank 
beside  ApoUonins  of  Tyana.    He  appears,  however,  in  actual  flesh 
and  blood  connected  with  the  tragedy  of  John  Brown. 

Walker's  narrative  commences  thus  :— "  In  the  beginning  of  May 
1685,  he  (Peden)  came  to  the  house  of  John  Brown  and  Isobel 
Weir,  whom  he  had  married  before  he  last  went  to  Ireland .  where 
he  stayed  all  night;  and  in  the  morning,  when  he  took  his  fare- 
well, he  came  out  at  the  door,  saying  t#  himself,  '  Poor  woman,  a 
fearful  morning,'  twice  over—'  a  dark  misty  morning  ! '  The  next 
morning,  between  five  and  six  hours,  the  said  John  Brown,  having 
performed  the  worsliip  of  God  in  his  fiimily,  was  going  with  a 
spade  in  his  hand  to  make  ready  some  peat  ground,  the  mist  being 

Verv  fJp.rk     IrnoiJiT-   p.-jf   notn    l^i^^ — a.,    1    /-ii 1 ? 

~^.    — n-j  — .-v.,T   ii^i-  i.iatit  wiuvujr   v;i uci  uiii vmiuuse  comT)uSsed 


I 


356 


APPENDIX. 


■him  with  three  troops  of  horses,  brought  him  to  his  house,  and 
thiTo  examined  him."  Walker,  iiite  Wodrow,  is  silent  aa  to  the 
naliirc  of  the  charge.  Then  comes  tlio  sentence—"  his  wifo  stand- 
iiig  by  witli  her  child  in  her  arms,  that  she  had  brought  forth  to 
hiui,  and  another  child  of  his  Hrst  wife's;"  and  the  execution  is 
-thus  narrated—"  Olavcrhouse  ordered  six  soldiers  to  shoot  him ; 
the  most  part  of  the  bullets  came  upon  his  head,  which  scattered 
his  brains  upon  the  ground." 

Such  is  Walker's  account  of  the  matter,  forty  years  having  in 
the  meantime  intervened  ;  and  whether  strictly  correct  or  no,  it 
entirely  alters  the  complexion  of  the  case  as  stated  by  Mr  Macauky. 
Instead  of  J(.hn  Brown  being  one  "in  whom  the  tyrants  could  find 
no  offence  except  that  he  absented  himself  from  the  publi<;  worship 
of  the  Episcopalians,"  we  tind  him  in  intercourse  with  a  man 
Who,  whatever  might  be  his  spiritunl  gifts,  was  a  notorious  outlaw 
and  a  rebel  ;  the  whole  romance  abotit  the  reluctance  of  the  sol- 
diers vanishes;  to  "wild  and  hard-hearted  men "  are  at  once 
amenable  to  the  authority  of  their  commanding  oHicer;  and  the 
alleged  murder  dwindles  into  ti  case  of  military  execution. 

Of  the  two  histories,  that  of  Walker  is  unquestionably  most 

likely  to  resemble  the  truth.    He  professes  to  have  heard  some  of 

the  details  from  the  wife  of  Brown,  whereas  Wodrow  gives  us  no 

manner    of  authority    at   all.    There    are,   however,  suspicions 

circumstances  even  in  Walker's  narrative,  which  might  bo  noticed. 

For  example,  in  the  original  edition  of  his  pamiiblct,  he  states 

that  the   first  person  who  came   to  Mrs  Brown,  while   she  was 

watching  by  her  husband's  body,  was  "  that  old  singular  Christian 

woman  in  the  Cummerhead,  named  Elizabeth  Monzies,  throe  miles 

distant;"  but   in   the   third   edition,  this  matron,   retaining   her 

residence  and  encomium,   is    transmuted    into    "  Jenn   Brown." 

Surely  th.'se  two  cannot  signify  one  and  the  same  pe;    ,n,  and  we 

are   therefore  left  in  doubt    which    partioidar  feu.ale   was   the 

witness.     But  it  is  not  worth  while  going  into  minute  criticism. 

Walker,  who  was  a  ftir  more  determined  Uoveminter  tlian  Wodrow, 

was  not  likely  to  have  understated  the  circumstances,  neither  does 

he  profess   to  know  upon  what  charge  Brown  was  exnmined     I 

think,  however,  I  can  throw  some  light  upon  this  person's  political 

delinquencies:   and,  strangely  enough,   my  authority  is  derived 

from  an  oflicial  document  which  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix  to 

Wodrow.  * 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DVNDEE.  367 

"John  IJrown  of  Priestfield,  in  the  parish  of  Muirkirk.-  ficfures 

May  1084.     Tho  lust  is  (^  those  who  had  boea  regularly  cited  as 
Joh  ,'  ;;•  --^^.  or  resetter,  of  rebel,  but  who  ha.  'lied  to  a    >ear 

death,  aid   certainly   for  a  very  different  offence   than  that  of 

u:':;;^;:?!  •?""'  '""•  'r  ^"'"^  ^"'^^''''  °^  ^"«  Episcopal-:  s"' 

Unduo  ediy  it  was  considered,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  a.  offence 
to  attend  armed  cnve  iticlcH,  where  fanatical  and  intercommnned 
preachers  wrested  texts  from  Scripture  into  encomiums  on  sedi- 
tio.,  treason,  and  murder:  that,  however,  was  a  very  different 
thing  frun  non-attendance  upon  the  curate.  Wodrow  acknowledges 
that  Brown  had  bee.i  a  long  time  upon  his  hiding  in  the  fields" 
a  circumstance  surely  irreconcilable  with  his  entirS  consciousness 
o  innocence,  but  easily  explained  on  the  ground  that  he  was 
already  a  rebel  and  au  outlaw.  To  say  that  he  was  tried  and 
sentenced  for  non-conformiiy  is  to  hnzard  an  assertion  not  o  ilr 
without  foundation,  but  in  the  v.ry  teeth  of  history.  I  maiutaia 
-and  I  know  that  £  am  borne  out  by  incontrovertible  proof- 
that,  at  the  time  in  question,  there  was  no  manner  of  persecution 
exercised  m  Scotland  against  any  body  of  men  whatever,  on 
account  of  tlieir  religious  tenets. 

Air  Macaulay,  whilst  dilatiig  upon  the  harsh  us^ge  of  the 
Covenanters,  never  once  affords  us  a  glimpse  of  the  opposite  side 
of  the  picture.  His  object  is  to  show  that  James  YU.,  immediately 
on  lus  accession  to  the  throne,  commenced  a  relentless  religious 
persecution;  and  acc<.rdi:igly,  he  ignores  the  position  of  affairs  in 
Scotland  during  the  last  six  months  of  the  reign  of  Charles  H  I 
Lave  examined  very  minutely  the  original  records  of  the  Privy 
Councd  preserved  in  the  public  archive3  of  Edinburgh,  and  these, 
taken  in  connection  with  Founiainhall's  explanatory  Diaries, 
furuish  ample  proof  that  the  charges  brought  against  King  Jauies 
are  without  foundation.  I  propose  verj  shortly  to  inquire  into 
this  matter. 

*  In  rder  that  there  may  be  no  cavilling  about  the  identity  of  the 
name  or  d,  signation  (for  tl.o  place  of  Bruwn'n  nddencf  has b..e..  variunsly 
printed  as  "  I'riotlield,"  "Priesthill,"  and  "the  ITesl.iU"),  1  subjoin  the 
exact  words  of  Wod.ow,  ii.  his  account  of  the  execu.ion.  "  I  mav  well 
bHgiu  With  the  horrid  murder  of  that  excellent  person.  Jnh.  Brown  of 
InesiJlM,   la  the  paiish  of  Muirkir/c,  by  Ctaverhouse,  the  first  of  this 


358 


APPENDTX. 


OharloB  II.  died  6th  Februftry  1685.  Lot  us  see  what  was  tlio 
Itate  of  the  kingdoni  toward.^  ihe  close  of  tiiO  nreccdii  g  jrea'*. 

In  September  1084,  the  southern  uu'i  wesl'  i  shires  were  so 
turbulent  that  tiie  Privy  Council  >  und  '*  .;  lessnry  to  issue  four 
Bpecial  commissions  of  Justiciary  tor  those  districts  alone.  "  In 
the  month  of  Juue  last,"  says  the  Royal  Proclamation  of  22d 
July,  "about  two  hundred  armed  rebels  luve  presumed,  to  the 
great  contempt  of  our  a  ithority,  to  march  openly  through  sweral 
of  the  said  shires  for  many  days  together,  threats  ng  i,ic  o; 'Jio- 
dox  clergy  and  murdering  our  soldiers;  and  have  at  last,  when 
they  found  it  convenient,  disaftp'ured,  being  certainly  and 
Ondeniably  reset  by  the  inhabitants  of  those  shires,  without 
gutticient  diligence  done  by  the  sheriff's  and  iiihabitnnts  df  the  said 
shires,  either  for  dissipating  them,  or  for  discovering  their  r('s»tter8, 
and  bringing  ihem  to  justice."  How  faV  those  special  commissions 
■ucceeded  in'  repressing  crime  may  be  judged  of  by  the  following 
events: — 

''  20M  Nov.  1G84. — The  news  came  this  morning  to  Edinburgh 
that  some  of  the  desperate  phanatiques  had  last  night  fallen  upon 
two  of  the  King's  Life-Guards,  viz.  Thomas  Ken  noway  and 
Duncan  Stewart,  who  were  lying  at  the  Swyn  Abbay,  beyond 
Blackburn,  in  Linlithgowshire,  and  murdered  them  most  barbar- 
ously. This  was  to  execute  what  they  had  threatened  in  their 
declaration  of  war." 

•' 12</i  Dec.  1084.— News  cams  to  the  Privy  Council  that  the 
wild  phanatiques  had  fallen  in  upon  one  t'eirson,  minister  at 
Carsphairn  in  Galloway,  a  great  dilator  of  them,  and  zealous  of 
rebuking  them  in  his  sermons,  and  killed  him.  They  ridiculously 
keep  mock  courts  of  justice,  and  cite  any  they  judge  their  inveter- 
ate enemies  to  them,  and  read  probation,  and  condemn  them,  and 
thereafter  murder  them."* 

Some  of  the  murderers  of  Mr  Peirson  were  afterwards  taken  and 
shot.  They  also  have  been  elevated  to  the  rank  of  martyrs.  The 
epitaph  of  one  of  them,  Robert  Mitchell,  is  printed  among  the 
inscriptions  at  the  conclu.s'ion  of  tlie  Cloud  of  WitneMes. 

On  the  28th  of  January  thereafter,  the  Privy  Council  was 
informed  that  Captain  Urquhart,  and  several  of  his  men,  had  been 
waylaid  and  murdered  in  Wigtownshioe.f 

*  FooNTAiNnALL's  Historidl  Notices. 

t  Records  qfthe  Privy  Council  in  General  Record  OflSce,  Edinburgh, 


ll 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 


359 


i 


These  specim'^ns  may  serve  to  show  the  temper  of  the  Covenant- 
ers Hboui  the  close  of  1«84.  N»'xt,  ad  to  the  alleged  fiery  persecu- 
tions of  James,  '<  whicli,"  sh\b  Mr  Macauhiy,  "waxed  hotter  than 
ever  from  the  day  on  which  be  became  sovereign."  That  day  was 
the  Gth  of  February,  and  on  the  :iGth  of  the  same  month  he  issued 
a  full  pardon  and  indemnity  to  all  offenders  below  the  rank  of 
Leritora  (with  tiie  exception  only  of  those  who  were  actually  gudty 
of  the  murders  of  Archbishop  Sharpe,  Mr  Peirson,  and  two  others) 
and  that  clogged  with  no  other  condition  than  the  taking  of  the 
oath  of  allegiance.  The  jiroclamation  was  published  on  the  2d  of 
March,  and  on  the  14th  the  Privy  Council  ordered  all  prisoners 
whatsoever  to  be  set  at  liberty,  "  upon  their  abjuring  the  fanati- 
cal declaration  of  war,  and  likewise  solemnly  giving  their  oaths 
never  to  ri.^e  against  his  Majesty  or  his  authority."  Surely  never 
yet  was  persecution  inaugurated  by  such  liberal  measiues  as  these  I 
It  is  right  to  observe,  that  the  reader  will  fail  to  discover  the 
smallest  mention  of  them  in  the  pages  of  Mr  Macaulay. 

In  less  than  tea  days  af'ter  this  jail-delivery,  the  disttirbanccs 
began  anew.  On  the  24th  of  March,  "  the  Lords  of  his  Majesty's 
Privy  Council  being  certainly  informed  that  a  number  of  desperate 
rebels  have  the  boldness  and  confidence  openly  to  go  up  and  down 
the  shire  of  Ayr,  and  oi.ier  adjacent  shires  and  places,  and  to  enter 
bouses,  take  awny  arms  and  provisions  at  their  pleasure,  without 
any  notice  taken  of  them  either  by  the  heritors  or  commons,  to 
tbe  great  affront  of  his  Majesty's  authority,"  commissioned  Colonel 
James  Douglas  to  proceed  to  the  disaffected  districts,  with  full 
powers  to  repress  the  disorders.  Tha  commission  was  signed  on 
the  27th  by  the  whole  members  of  the  Privy  Council  win  were 
present,  "except  Claverhouse"— a  remarkable  exception,  specially 
noted,  to  which  I  shall  prese  itly  refer.  Of  the  same  date,  a  letter 
from  the  Privy  Council  v  is  forwarded  to  the  Earl  of  Dumfries 
Sheriff  of  Ayr,  rcquestin^i  immediate  particulars,  as  it  appeared 
that  his  Lordship's  house  had  been  one  of  those  which  were 
ransacked. 

Douglas  seems  to  have  entered  into  his  functions  with  zeal,  but 
not  to  have  been  altogether  successful.  The  insurrection  continued 
to  increase,  and  on  tlie  21st  April,  General-Lieutenant  Drnmmond, 
Master-General  of  the  Ordnance,  was  appointed  Commissioner  and 
Justiciar  in  the  southern  and  western  shires,  with  plenary  Dowera. 


3C0 


APPENDTX* 


TliH  Parliament  of  Scotland  did  not  meet  until  two  days  affen- 
wnrd^. 

Those  insurrectiona  lind  tlicir  origin  in  a  dooprr  cniisc  tlinn 
religious  dissont  or  local  tin bulonre.  Mr  Maonulity,  who  co  iH- 
deill/  Bays  that  "  there  was  \\^^  iiiHiirrcclioM  in  any  jmrt  of  our 
Island  on  the  1st  May,"  probably  coiHideri  tg  the  Ayrshire  rising 
tt8  a  mere  sportive  denionslralidn.  has  a  note  in  nfiitation  of  the 
editor  of  the  Oxford  edition  of  lUiriet,  who  supposes  that  Jolin 
Browa  might  have  been  nixed  up  with  the  desig  is  of  Ar^'yle. 
He  says  that  Argylc  was  at  that  date  in  Holland.  Tru«  ;  hd  hn 
tailed  for  Scotland  on  the,  '2d,  and  the  Privy  Council  had  been 
aware  of  his  designs  as  early  ns  the  '21st  April.  On  that  day  they 
ordered  1200  Ilighlandera  ty  be  sent  into  the  western  shires,  "  upon 
rumours  of  fears  of  Argyle's  landi'g:  »  and  Orunirnond,  in  his 
commission,  was  empowered  to  take  those  llifihlandcrs  under  hia 
command.  On  the  2Hth,  an  Act  was  framed  for  putting  the  wholo 
kingdom  in  a  posture  of  I'.rfence,  ex)resKly  on  account  of  Argylc  • 
and  on  the  last  of  that  month'  Joh  i  (.'ampbell  of  Siicco  was 
arrested  for  treasonable  correspondence  with  thut  i  ifuluated 
nobleman.  Nor  can  there  be  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  the  dia- 
turba  ices  in  the  west  were  coniected  with  the  meditated  laidiog. 

Is,  then,  the  conjecture  of  the  editor  of  niirnet  so  exceedingly 
extravagant?  I  dO  not  thiuk  so.  How  came  John  Brown,  as 
Wodrow  says,  to  have  been  "a  long  time  upon  his  hidi  ig  in  the 
fields?"  He  was  free  by  the  indemnity^  unless,  indeed,  he  had 
refused  the  oath  of  allegiance,  or  committed  some  subsequent  act 
which  put  him  beyond  the  pale  of  the  law.  In  the  report  of  a 
committee  of  the  Privy  Council,  made  on  the  10th  of  March,  I  find 
tie  following  entry :—"  John  Brown,  an  old  man,  in  the  fugitive 
roll,  refuses  the  allegiance,  and  so  ought  not  to  have  the  benefit 
of  the  indemnity."  If  this  be  the  same  person  with  the  carrier  of 
Priestfield,  he  was  at  that  time  a  prisoner,  and  therefoie  must 
either  have  made  his  escajie,  or,  having  taken  the  oath,  subse- 
quently joined  the  rebels  ;  in  either  of  which  cases  his  hiding  in  the 
fields  is  intelligible  enough,  and  so  also  is  his  summary  execution 
when  arrested.  But  in  no  way  can  it  be  shown  that  he  suffered 
on  account  of  his  religious  tenets ;  and  it  is  very  well  worthy  of 
observation  that  the  Act  against  Cimvenlich's,  which  has  been 
so  much  abused,  was  not  passed  by  the  Scottish  Parliament  until 
several  days  after  the  date  in  question.    Let  the  candid  uud  iicpar- 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 


3G1 


tial  rrndcr  comparo  those  dates,  circMiinsiances  and  ovidonccs,  with 
the  luimilivo  of  Mr  Macivulny,  a-id  I  liave  littlo  f\'iir  of  his  arriving 
at  tlio  siitiie  concluaioiiH  witli  tliat  cKxiuofit  liistoriaii. 

ItseetTis  to  me,  therofbrc,  quite  clear  tliat  John  Brown  was  exocnt- 
ed  as  a  rebel.  He  may  bo  coriHidercd  a  martyr  in  the  satne  sense  as 
Hack.-itoun  of  llailiiliet  and  Hubert  Mitcliell,  who  liad  inibrned  thoir 
hands  in  tlie  J)l(in(l  of  tiie  Primate  of  8t  Andrews  and  of  the 
minister  of  Carspliairn,  or  as  tlie  rebels  who  adhered  to  tlie  atro- 
cious Declaration  of  Hanqiihar  ;  but  I  cannot  see  wliat  otlK-r  claim 
he  has  to  the  title.  He  was  fngilated  the  year  before  ;  he  had  either 
refused  or  had  forfeited  the  benefit  of  the  indemnity;  ho  was 
traflickiiipj  with  a  notorious  oiiilaw;  and  ho  is  admitted  to  have 
been  in  hidinjf  williin  six  weeks  after  tlo  indemnity  was  pro- 
claimed. All  this,  at  least,  is  patent  and  proven ;  and  it  is  jitterly 
inconsistent  w'.h  ids  innocence,  evfn  if  we  should  stretch  charity 
so  far  as  to  su|)po3e  that,  during  those  six  weeks,  he  did  not  join 
one  of  those  aimed  bands  of  rebels  who  were  then  i)eraud)iilating 
and  plundering  tlie  country.  The  aggravations,  which  constitute 
the  romance  of  the  story,  have  been  already  disposed  of.  Patrick 
Walker,  the  staucher  Cameronian  of  the  two,  gives  Robert  Wodrow 
the  lie  direct. 

This  iiote  has  already  extended  to  such  a  length,  that  I  am  really 
unwilling  to  aild  a  word  more  on  Mic  subject.  But  the  duty  which 
I  have  undertaken  compels  me- to  state  my  belief  that  Urahame  of 
Claverhouse  had  no  share  whatever  in  repressing  the  disturba  ices 
previous  to  the  landing  of  Argyle,  and  that  he  was  not  present  at 
the  execution  of  John  Brown.  Tradition  of  course  is  against  me  ;' 
but  when  I  li  id  no  articulate  voice  uttered  by  tradition  until  after 
the  exjiiry  of  thirty  years,  lam  not  disposed  to  give  much  weight 
to  it  as  an  accessary,  far  less  to  accept  it  as  reasonable  evidence. 
My  reasons  are  as  follows : — 

Claverhouse  was  superseded  in  his  military  command  by  Colonel 
James  Douglas,  brother  of  Queensberry,  who  was  then  High  Trea- 
surer. The  district  assigned  to  Douglas  was  that  of  Ayr,  the  shire 
in  which  John  Brown  resided;  and  Claverhouse,  being  of  equal 
military  rank,  did  not  serve  under  him,  as  is  api)arent  from  the 
records  of  the  Privy  Council,  the  meetings  of  which  he  attended 
dailv  until  the  month  of  April.  Tliese  records  refute  many  of  the 
scandalous  tales  propagated  by  Crookshauk  and  others,  who 
depict  Claverhouse  as  pursuing  CoveuauLers  ixi  NitLsduIe,  at  the 


3G2 


APPENDIX. 


very  moment  wh^n  he  was  performing  liis  duties  as  a  councillor  in 
Edinburgh.    Fountainhall  tells  us  distinctly  that  he  was  super- 
seded out  of  spite  :  he  refused,  in  his  character  of  I'rivy  Councillor 
to  sigi  the  commission,  and  in  April  he  wab  actually  omitted  from' 
the  now  list  of  councillors.    The  following  is  FouiitainhaH's  entry 
on  that  occasion:-"  9th  April    1685.— A  Privy  Council  is   held 
where  a  new  commission  is  produced,  omitting  nom-  of  tlie  former 
Privy  Councillors   but  only   Colonel   Grahauie   of  Clavorhouse, 
because  of  the  discords  we  have  formerly  marked  between  him  and 
the  High  Treasurer  and  his  brother.    The  i)retence  was,  that,  being 
married  in  my  Lord  Dundonald's  phanatique  family,  it  was  not 
safe  to  commit  the  King's  secrets  to  him."    The  spiie  went  even 
further:  for  a  {^^  days  afterwards  an  Act  of  Council  was  jiassed, 
says  Fountainhall,  "in  odium  of  Claverhouse;"  and  I  cannot  tind, 
in  the  records  of  that  year,  the  sligiUest  trace  of  his  having  been 
reinstated  in   com.mand.    It  is  possible,  however,  that  he  might 
have  been  called  o\it  to  serve  under  Genenil  Drummond,  but  not 
surely  upon  such  duty  as  this.    John  Brown  must  have  been  a  very 
desjierate  rebel  indeed,  if  a  Colonel  of  the  Guards,  who  moreover 
had  been  a  Privy  Councillor,  aud  three  troops  of  horse  were  des- 
patched specially  to  arrest  him  1    If  he  was  no  rebel  at  all,  but 
merely  a  nonc'juformis',  the  thing  becomes  absolutely  incred.ble  j 
for,  setting  aside  the  indemnify,  can  auy  one  believe  tiiat,  in  the 
face   of  Argyle's  meditated  landing,  and  in  the  midst  of  actual 
insurrectio  1,  the   troops  were  leisurely  emi)loyed  in  ferreting  out 
and   shooting  such   of  the   i)easantry   as   did   not   worship   with 
the  curates?     But  vulgar  credulity  owns  no  limits,  and  the  lapse 
of  thirty  years  is  sufficient  to  account  for  the   currency  of  the 
grossest  fable. 

In  estimating  the  character  of  the  dead,  some  weight  surely 
ought  to  be  given  to  the  opinions  of  contemporaries.  I  shall  cite 
merely  one— that  of  Dr  Monro,  the  Principal  of  the  University  of 
Edinburgh.  At  the  inquiry  i  istituted  before  the  visitors  in  1G90, 
it  was  alleged,  as  a  special  article  of  dittay  against  the  Reverend 
Principal,  that  he  had  rejoiced  at  the  victory  of  Lord  Dundee. 
After  culling  upon  his  accuser  for  proofs,  the  Doctor  thus  boldly 
expressed  himself:  -  "The  libeller  does  not  think  I  rejoiced  at  the 
fall  of  my  Lord  Dundee!  1  assure  him  of  the  contrary;  for  no 
gentleman,  soldier,  scholar,  or  civilized  citizen,  will  find  fault  with 
me  for  this.    I  had  an  extraordinary  value  for  him :  and  such  of  his 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 


363 


enemies  as  retain  any  generosity  will  acknowledge  lie  deserved 
it."*  But  what  generosity,  or  oven  wliat  regard  for  truth,  could 
be  ex|iecte(l  from  cieatuios  of  the  stamp  of  Vv'odrow  1 

Mr  Macaulay  is  peculiarly  unfortunate  on  llie  subject  of  Claver- 
houae.  1  s«y  nothing  of  omissions,  though  Imual  take  the  liberty, 
with  all  deference,  of  remarking  that  it  Joes  appear  somewhat 
strange  to  find  in  a  history,  whicli  rer  Dunts  with  such  minute 
satisfaction  every  instance  of  desertion  f  om  the  losing  side,  uo 
notice  taken  of  the  loyaity  of  those  who  remained  steadfnst  to 
their  oath  and  their  allegiance.  In  an  i.nparlial  narrative  one  might 
expect  to  see  recorded  the  gallant  advice  and  chivalrous  off'cr  niade 
by  Lord  Dundee  to  his  sovereign,  before  the  latter  quilted  his  domin- 
ions ;  for  surely  devotion  to  a  losing  cause  is  worthy  of  honour  and 
respect,  au''  should  receive  it  from  a  generous  antagonist.  But 
historia  13  undoubtedly  have  the  privilege  of  omitting  what  they 
please,  and,  in  this  inj^+ance,  it  is  sufficient  to  no'e  that  th<  privi- 
lege has  been  exerci,:,ed.  But  Mr  Macaulay  has  thought  fit  to 
introduce  Claverhouse  on.:e  more  as  an  actor  in  an  historical 
scene,  ujjon  which  he  has  obviously  bestowed  much  pains  and 
considerailon.  In  his  account  of  the  capture  and  execution  of 
Argyle,  he  says  : — "  The.  victorious  party  had  not  forgotten  that, 
thirty-five  years  before  this  time,  the  father  of  Argyle  had  been  at 
the  head  of  the  faction  which  put  Montrose  to  death.  Before  that 
event,  the  houses  of  Graham  and  Campbell  had  borne  no  love  to 
each  other,  and  they  had  ever  since  been  at  deadly  feud.  Care 
was  taken  that  the  prisoner  should  pass  through  the  same  gate  and 
the  same  stroets  through  which  Montrose  had  been  led  to  the 
same  doom.  The  troops  who  attended  the  procension  were  put  under 
tfie  command  of  Claverhouse,  the  Jierceet  and  sternest  of  the  race  of 
Graham."  Now,  although  tlie  fatlier  of  Argyle  had  not  only  been 
the  head  of  the  faction  which  put  Montrose  to  death,  but  had,  along 
with  his  son,  the  inconceivable  meanness  to  be  present  at  and  exult 
over  the  indignities  ottered  to  that  illustrious  nobleman,  it  is  not 
true  that  any  chief  of  the  gallant  house  of  Grahame  stooped  to 
imitate  such  a  base  example.  Claverhouse  was  not  there.  The 
melodramatic  effect  of  the  narrative  may  suffer  in  ccnsequence, 

*  Presbyterian  Inquisition :  as  it  was  lately  practised  against  the 
Professors  <f  the  College  of  Edinburgh.  Aug.  and  Sept.  1G90. 
Licensed  Nov.  12,  1691.    London. 


Ill 


364 


APPENDIX. 


but  at  present  we  nre  dealing  with  history,  not  romance.    The 
impression  which   every  one    must    receive  from   the  forogoint: 
passMpre  i,,  that  Claverhouse  was  expressly  selected  for  the  d.ity, 
in  ordor  to  give  a  passing  triumph,  not  only  to  a  political  cause, 
but  also  to   a  family  feud.     Kno^ving  well  how  eagorlv  former 
Covenanting  writers  have  fastened  upon  any  pretext  for  ^.sting  a 
sta,n  upon  the  memory  of  Claverhonse,  it  was  with  considerable 
astonishment  that  I  found  this  statement  brought  forward  for  the 
first  time  by  Mr  Macaulay.    Hi,  mistake,  in  this  instance,  is  pre- 
cisely  of  a  ,.iece   with   the  others.    Wodrow  quotes,   nccurately 
enongh,  the  substance  of  the  order  given  for  bringing  Argyle  into 
Ji.ctu,b!n-gh-an  order  v^hich  was  modified  in  its  execution     That 
order  bears  that  ho  shall  be  -  carried  up  the  street  bare-headed, 
witl,  h.s  hands  tied  behind  his  back,  in  the  midst  of  Captain  Gra- 
ham  s  guards  "     This  is  enotigh  for  Mr  Macaulay,  who  forthwith 
pounces  upon  the  name,  and,  without  stopping  to  consider  who  Cap- 
tau,  Graham  was,  at  once  degrades  Claverhonse  from  his  rank  and 
identdies  hun  with  the  officer  of  the  guard  !     Ifenee  the  rhetorical 
floursh  „bout  the  houses  of  Grah  ,m  and  Campb-dl.     The  real  fact 
IS  that  the  otiieer  in  question  was  Patrick  Grahnm,  a  younger  son 
of  I  iclibradde,  Captain  of  the  Town-guard  of  Ediuburgi,,\vhose 
duty  ,t  was,  irrespective  of  :>olitics  or  family  feuds,  to  be  present 
at  all  public  processions  within  the  boundaries  of  the  city     His 
name  is  given  ai;  full  length  i  i  the  original  order;  but  Mr  Macau- 
lay, having  previously  substituted  James  for  John,  now  substitutes 
Jolm  for  Patrick,  and  consequently  is  enabled  to  invest  the  scene 
with  an  additional,  though  spurious,  hue  of  interest      Besides  this, 
I  nm  afraid  that  Mr  Macaulay's  account  of  the  procession  must  be 
considered  as  chiefly  drawn  from   his  own  imngination.    Argyle 
was  by  no  means  exposed  to  the  same  indignities  which  had  been 
heaped  upon  Montrose,  neither  was  his  doom  the  same.     Pouutain- 
ha  I,  in  his  Historical  Observes,  a  work  of  great  interest,  expressly 
tells  us  that  although  it  was  mentioned  that,  "  when  the  M.irquig 
of  M.mtrose  was  brought  up  prisoner  from  the  Watergate  in  a  cart, 
this  Argile  was  feeding  his  ej-es  with  the  sight  in  the  Lady  Mur  ay's 
balcony,  in  the  Canongate,  with  her  daughter,  his  lady,  to  whom 
he  was  newly  married,  and  that  he  was  seen  smiling  and  playing 
With  her;"  yet  that,  "seeing  we  condemn  these  rebellious  tymes 
tor  their  rigor  our  great  men  (not  knowing  their  own  destinies) 
Uiought  It  no  fit  copy  to  imitate— so  that  all  that  was  dnn«  to  ip-m 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 


365 


was,  that  h«  was  met  at  the  Watergate  hy  Captain  Graham's  com- 
pany and  the  hangman,  who  tied  his  hands  behind  his  buck;  and 
so,  the  hangman  going  before  him,  he  came  up  on  his  feet  to  the 
Castle,  hut  it  was  caden  to  he  no  late  that  he  was  little  seeti."  It  was 
ten  o'clock  at  night  before  he  arrived  at  the  Watergate,  so  that 
any  attempt  at  ignominious  parade  was  avoided. 

I  cannot  see  how  the  numory  of  Argyle  can  be  served  by 
such  exafrgerations.  Whatever  mav  have  been  his  previous 
delinquencies — and  they  were  neither  few  nor  trivial— he  met  his 
fate  like  a  brave  man,  nor  did  any  action  of  his  life  become  him 
so  much  as  its  close.  Claverhouse,  who  would  joyfully  have 
encountered  him  in  the  field,  was  intinitely  above  the  littleness 
of  triumphing  over  his  political  opponent.  The  debt  due  to  the 
memory  of  the  great  Montrose  was  fully  discharged  when  his 
loyalty  received  its  postlujmous  tribute,  and  the  remains  of  the 
hero  were  deposited  by  his  assembled  kindred  in  the  tomb.  It  is  a 
pity  that  Mr  Macaulay,  since  he  must  needs  take  Wodrow  as  his 
authority,  has  not  adhered  closely  to  his  <ext.  In  matters  which 
were  evidently  public,  and  therefore  open  to  common  contradiction, 
Wodrow  seldom  ventures  to  warider  far  astray  from  the  truth:  it 
is  in  the  alleys  and  bye-lanes  of  his  narrative  that  we  detect  him 
at  his  habitual  sin.  Mr  Macaulay,  however,  does  not  always  follow 
Wodrow,  but  sometimes  misinterprets  Fountainhall.  Thus,  in  his 
account  of  the  riot  at  Edinburgh  on  31st  January  lG8(j,  he  some- 
what magniloquently  tells  us  that  "  the  trooDS  were  already  under 
arms.  Conspicuous  among  them  vere  Claverhouse's  dragoons, 
the  dread  and  abhorrence  of  Scotia  id."  His  sole  authority  for 
saying  i^o  is  the  entry  in  Fountaiiihall's  Diary  tlmt  "  the  Counsell 
calls  in  the  assistance  of  Grame's  comiuiny."  Not  a  dragoon  was 
there.  Patrick  Graham,  as  usual,  was  summoned  with  the  Town- 
guard  ;  but  that  body,  in  the  hands  of  Mr  Macaulaj^,  multiplies 
like  Falstaffs  ffiraous  corps  in  buckram,  and  is  ready  on  the 
shortest  notice  to  figure  as  horse,  foot,  or  artillery. 

I  trust  that,  in  the  foregoing  remarks,  I  shall  not  be  considered 
as  having  transgressed  the  proper  bounds  of  courte-y.  Mr 
Macaulay's  reputation  is  deservedly  so  high,  that  every  statement 
emanating  from  his  pen  is  liable  to  the  r^inutest  scrutiny;  and  I 
will  fairly  confess  that  I  was  not  sorry  to  find  the  scattered  charges 
wliich,  from  time  to  time,  have  been  brought  against  Lord 
Dundee,  conccatrated  ia  his  volumes,  since  an  accusation  from  so 


366 


APPENDIX. 


powerfu    a  quarter  must  necessarily  give  somo  additional  interest 
to   the  defence,   however  f.eblj  executed.    It  is   from   no  des^e 
for  controversy,  far  less  f.cm  a  wish  to  run  counter  to  popdar 
opinion,  that  I  have  approached  this  subject.    J  am  fully  .ware  of 
the  we.ght  of  prejudice  against  which  I  have  to  contend    but  ivoL 
tha   prejudice  I  appeal  to  the  truth,  as  I  gather  it  from  the     crd" 
of  the  time.    Some  of  my  critics,  fur  whose  indulgence  otherXe  T 
am  grateful,  have  been  pleased  to  express  then.eL  w^htX  a 
finding  aay  terms  of  eulogy  applied  in  the  text  towards  an  indif 
dual  m  the  belief  of  whose  misdeeds  they  have  been  hereditailr 
and  traoitionally  trained.    If  my  belief  upon  such  poin    "t  e ^ 
ame  with  theirs,  they  should  have  had  no  cause  of  compllint     l! 
IS  because  I  am  convinced,  after  a  most  careful  examination  of  the 
evidence-not  of  historians  only,  but  of  such  as  is  afforded  by  he 
ma tenals  which  ougnt  to  be  the  foundation  of  authentic  history-! 
that  a  large  portion  of  our  national  annals  has  been  most  unfair> 
perver  ed    and  that  party  strife  and  polemical  rancour  have  com- 
bined    o  distort  facts  and  to  blacken  names  for  mere  temporary 
and  ephemeral  purposes  ;-it  is  for  these  reasons  sclely  that  I  have 
ventured  to  go  back  into  the  disputed  oattle-fields  of  the  past     I 
have  taken  nothing  for  granted,  but  have  given  an  authority  fo 
each  separate  allegation  ;  and  if  those  authorities  should  hapnen  to 
prove  hostile  to  the  preconceived  impressions  of  any  one  surelv  I 
am  not  to  blame.    If  anything  I  have  said  can  be  proved  to  be 
wrong  I  axn  willing  to  admit  the  error,  but  not  otherwise.    Mean! 
while  I  am  not  ashamed  of  havi.g  attempted  to  defend  the  memory 
of  Lord  Dundee  against  unjust  accusations,  not  preferred  during 
his  lifetime,  but  invented  at  a   laier  period;  for  I  can   see  no 
generosity,   far    less  justice,  in   the    conduct  of  those  who  are 
obstinately  deaf  to  all  evidence  in  favour  of  one  whom  they  have 
been  previously  taught  to  condemn,  aud  who  seem  to  think  that 
tflj   strength   of  their  own   cause  depends   upon   the  amount  of 
obloquy  which  they  can  contrive  to  heap  upon  its  opponents 


LOVELL'S 


in^nalriini  Oominton  ^itittox^ 


FOR  1871: 


i 


IS  ON  SALE  AT 


<( 
<( 
t< 


Messrs.  Adam,  Stevenson  &  Co.,  Toronto, 
"      James  Hope  &  Co.,  Ottawa, 

JOSEPH  LYGHT  &  CO.,  HAMtLTON, 
DUNCAN  STUART  &  CO.,  HAMILTON, 
E.  A.  TAYLOR  &  Co.,  LONDON, 
MIDDLETON  &  DAWSON,  QUEBEC, 
"       A.  &  W.  MACKINLAY,  HALIFAX,  N.S., 

Z.  S.  HALL,  Esq.,  Halifax,  N.S., 
Messrs.  J,  &  A.  McMillan,  St.  John,  n.B,, 
"      J.  P.  Qregory,  Fredericton,  N.B., 
Thos.  mcConnan,  Esq.,  St.  John  s,  Newfoundland, 
H.  A.  HARviE,  Esq.,  Charlottetown,  P.E.I,, 
Messrs.  Harper  brothers,  New  York, 
New  England  news  Co.,  Boston,  Mass.,  and  at 
Messrs.  Kelly  &  Co.,  Publishers  of  the  Post  Office  London  Directory, 
Loridon,  England. 

rjlHE  DIRECTORY,  which  has  been  before  the  public  since  last  February, 
has  been  received  with  general  satisfaction.  But  the  Publisher  regrets  to 
state  that  the  vvork  has  not  proved  a  flnancial  success.  The  refusal  of  a  large 
number  of  Subscribers  to  take  the  Directory  because  it  was  not  published  in 
October,  or  because  it  was  not  printed  in  French,  or  from  bome  other  trifling 
cause,  and  the  utter  failure  of  support  in  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland,  has  left  a  conside  i,  .  i,(.nbQr  of  copies  on  his  hands.  Had  all 
parties  who  subscribed  to  thr  wof.i— and  they  were  suiUcient  to  cover  all 
expenses  of  publication— xullihec'  tSeir  obligations,  the  Publisher  would  not 
have  been  the  heavy  loser  that  he  is  to-day.  He  takes  pride,  however,  in  saying 
that  not  a  single  copy  of  the  Directory  has  been  refused  because  of  an  error  of 
any  kind.  After  a  diligent  canvass  in  the  United  States,  the  total  number  of 
copies  disposed  of  was  25  ;  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  Messrs,  Kelly  &  Co., 
had  out  thirty  agents,  and  all  they  could  dispose  of  was  43.    The  Publisher  feels 


that  the  courteous  terms  in  which  the  Press  have  alluded  to  his  greaf,  national 
cnteri)riae  claim  his  grat-.ful  tl.aaks,  and  that  he  can  most  appropriately 
acknowledge  his  obligations  by  reproducing  the  following  flattering  extracts 
signalizing  the  merits  of  his  Directory  : 

OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 


PROVINCE  OF  ONTAUIO, 

It  is  a  very  complete  and  satisfactory  work.  Mr.  Lovell  deserves  the  thanlr. 
of  tiie  vvuolc  conmiunity  for  the  manner  in  which  he  ha.,  accomplished  hiJ 
tOiSk.— Christum  (Juardian,  Toronto.  "xv^«"eu  ms 

It  is  a  monument  of  unwearied  perseverance,  diligence  and  enterprise  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Love  1-tliat  prince  of  Canadian  printer,  and  publishers  It  is  a 
thorou-hlyrehable  work  and  its  uif(,rmation  is  indispensable  to  public  men  and 
men  ot  busmass.  As  an  indication  of  the  niainiti.l.  and  importance  of  te 
work  It  may  be  remarked  that  it  contains  the  nam.,  of  the  chief  inhabitant 
of  4i)14  pla.-es  m  the  six  Fruvinces.-,/<;«,vm/  of  EducaHon,  Toronto.      "^'''^ 

The  publication  of  this  truly  national  work  is  an  event  of  importance  in  the 
history  ot  Canada.  We  shall  b.  mii  ^h  mistaken  if  this  work  will  not  be  of 
materia  boneht  to  Canada,  throu.^ii  d  recCin-  the  attention  of  the  British 
pubac  this  way,  and  conveying  corre^ter  idcv-i  than  tho^e  generally  prevailine 
as  to  what  this  country  really  \b.— People's  Jvur:;al,  Toronto.  cv^umg 

It  is  a  complete  and  reliable  compendium  of  the  Dominion's  historv  ita 
people,  their  names,  residences,  occupation,  &j.  It  is  an  indispensable  apu'en- 
dage  tothe  business  community,  aiid  a  monument  to  the  perseverance  and 
industry  cf  Mr.  Lovell.— //'w/i  Canadian,  Toronto. 

Mr  John  Lovell  has  placed  the  Canadian  people  under  obligations  t^  him 
for  the  exc-ellent  and  elegant  Directory  of  tiie  Dominion  which  lie  has  lust 
issued,  io  all  business  men  it  is  a  necessity  which  it  would  be  mere  nig- 
gardliness to  do  without.— fo/rtwtcrfia/  Times,  Toronto. 

Scarcely  any  item  of  information  regarding  tlie  Dominion  is  mis=in<^  from 
the  volume— no  office  or  counting  house  is  now  complete  without  a  conv^of  the 
Directory.— Ca«adi«;t  Freeman,  Toronto. 

This  is  a  work  of  extraordinary  magnitude  and  value.  It  requi-es  onlv  to 
be  examined  to  ensure  its  appreciation.— CV««rfa  Scotsman,  Toronto. 

We  congratulate  the  country  on  the  appoarance  of  a  work  Avhich  is  av  once 
a  pra-  ti.  al  and  reliable  exponent  of  its  progre.^s  and  condition,  and  a  triluite 
of  earnest  patriotism  to  the  young  Dominion  in  one  of  her  most  worihv 
subjects. — Canada  Bookseller,  Toronto.  ^ 

A  book  of  more  than  2500  pages  naturally  inspires  one  with  con«ider'^ble 
respect,  and  when  the  book  is  well  bound  and  neatly  prinieJ  the  rcipect 
increases.  If  a  perusal  of  the  work  shows  it  to  contain  valuable  matter  the 
respect  rises  to  admiraliin.  Lovell's  Dominion  Directory  is  entitled  to  the 
latter  sentiment.  Mr.  Lovell  intimates  that  the  cost  of  issuing  this  work  was 
not  less  than  «i80,000,  a  statement  we  can  well  believe.  Mr.  Lovell  has  now 
supplied  the  country  with  a  directory  which  will  stand  as  a  monument  of 
Canadian  enterprise,  and  one  of  which  the  country  may  well  feel  proud  — 
Daily  Spectator,  Hamilton, 

This  colossal  work  forms  the  crowning  effort  of  the  celebrated  John  Lovell 
Of  Montreal.    Mr.  Lovell  has  immortalized  himself  in  the  literary  history  of 
the  country  by  the  publication  of  this  magnilicent  work.    It  is  impossible  for 
us  to  attempt,  within  the  limits  of  a  two-column  article,  to  give   even  a 
digest  of  the  contents.    Suffice  it  to  say  that  all  that  Mr,  Lovell  stated  in  his 


i 


\ 

! 


original  prospectus  hm  been  faithfully  carriefl  out.  No  pecunian'  reward 
could  compensate  him  for  what  he  ha.  accomplished  in  this  vast  undertalTin? 
John  Lovcl  lia.  for  year,  taken  a  noble  stixn.l  in  (Janada  in  suppMn  .  the 
people  with  a  Hrhool  literature  of  it.s  own,  and  his  name  ranks  amouK  thefore- 
most  of  Its  worthy  pabhihQn.— London  Free  Press. 

The  mo<t  Htupendous  work  in  the  publishing  line  ever  attempted  in  Canada 
may  be  found  in  the  Dominion  Directory,  just  issued  from  the  well-known 
printmg-house  of  Mr.  Jolm  Lovell.  of  Montreal.  The  dire,  torv  is  tl.c  most 
valuable  pr(xlu.  tion  ever  issued  from  the  Press  of  CaiuKla,  and  Mr'  John 
Lovell  s  name  will  ever  be  held  in  remembrance  by  all  wlio  desire  to  I'berish 
ml^aa:!^?:^;^:^  ''^  advancement  of  this  Dominion.-Z../..  ^^/^ 

The  Dominion  Director}-  Is  MI  of  interesting  matter  for  men  in  everv  nro 
(eBlon  and  ,n  every  branch  of  bn,r„e«.-iV„„jc«cai  K™»  ?"»1«      *  ^ 

wil®  Directory  is  at  once  a  monument  of  Mr.  Lovell's  wondci-ful  oner-y  and 
^^S^:^:ll^^r^^r^  -^  -""^^^  ^-  -^e  Since  its  dis^^Jiv^ 

muT^SsSn^Z?Sr-^r;:;'.fc;L?^^  ^^^P^'^^-'  -^^  ^ave 

^3!'.^vJ?  *"  '^''^^""wledge  the  receipt  of  one  of  the  most  important  statistical 
^orks  we  have  ever  seen-the  Dominion  Directory.  Tiie  great  value  of  this 
book  to  proie,<sional  and  business  men  is  the  facility  witli  u^ii,'!,  the  ad.l ress  of 

matioii. —  Volunteer  Review,  Ottaica. 

The  Dominion  Directory  is  destined  to  exert  a  material  influence  in  helping 
on  the  progress  of  this  country.  Mr.  Lovell  has  nobly  fulfilled  the  proniise  of 
his  prospectus  m  giving  to  the  people  of  Canada  a  full  and  reliable  D  rectory  of 
the  Dominion.  It  is  a  book  of  which  Canadians  may  well  be  proud,  and  for 
l^vNact    ""'"  ^        '  "*  ^^''^'  *'  *^'  enterprising  publisher.-/a!;i.4T» 

taS^:^!);ts  mi,^:i^x^  '"^'^ '""  '""^  "''^^^  ^  ''*""^'^"  ^'^^^^^'^ 

+v,^^®m"T'"?"'^  Directory  is  tlie  Domesday  book  of  Canada.     There  is  one 

Si:i^ss^£.snsssf '"'  '^^  "^-"-^-^  "^^^^^ 

ranid.°''"wn"i'  ^'^.'rft'^^y  is  one  of  the  greatest  publications  ever  issued  in 
Cy.S;wJl//.Sfr^'^  "^^""""'^  ''  ''  *^^^  ^^^«^^  community.-/ia..>,, 

PUOVINCE   OF    QUEBEC. 

r  Jvf  J^f h""'"""^''''''^*f''"^  '^  "°*  "'^^^^y  creditable  to  Canada;  that  does  not 
convey  the  meaning  ;  it  would  be  creditable  to  the  publisher  in  any  countr? 
For  business  men  it  would  seem  to  bealmo.t  indispensable.-i^/c^/.^r/a/ /TerS 

fi,3^''  nT'^  V  f  T?^^  ?^  truthfulness  and  accuracy,  and  its  authority  is  more 
fin  lb  established  day  by  day,  the  more  the  inhabitants  of  the  cities,  towns  and 
vil  ages  examine  and  explore  its  pages.  It  will  assuredly  open  the  eyes-and 
wide  too-ol  the  Lnglifeh  people,  nnd  enable  them  to  form  some  clear  idea  of 
the  intelligence,  enterprise,  wealth  and  extent  of  a  country  which  some  of 
t^p.r  statesmen  consider  an  incubus  to  the  Mother  Country .-r/je  Gazette, 


WWWWWP 


C'est  nn  volume  6normc,  anx  dimensions  enrore  inconnues  en  Canada.  Nous 
espi'Tons  (lue  M.  Lovell  vorra  se«  efforts  conronn^s  par  un  plem  8ncc6a  qui  lui 
est  (la  t'l  taut  de  titrea.— Z-a  Alinerve,  Montreal. 

It  it  replete  with  information  of  the  most  valuable  description.  It  is  alike 
a  credit  to  Mr,  Lovell  and  the  Dominion,  and  his  enorj^y  in  embarlcuib'  in  the 
enterprise  is  most  comniendablo. —Z>«i/y  Witness,  Montreal. 

The  Dominion  Directory  is  crammed  full  of  infcnnation  of  the  most  useful 
kind. — Evening  Star,  Montreal. 

Get  ouvraw  que  I'on  pent  regardcr  romme  une  ojnvre  nationale  est  I'un  des 
plus  considerables  et  des  plus  complets  que  nous  connaissions  en  ce  genre.— 
Le  I'ays,  Montreal. 

Lc  Direetoire  do  la  Puissance  est  nne  oenvre  immense  ct  il  a  fallu  un  prand 
nombro  d'ajients  dans  toutes  les  provinces  ponr  recueillir  les  reuseiguomenta 
priicieux  qu'oii  y  trouve. — La  Nouveau  Monde,  Montreal. 

Of  this  work  it  is  scarce  possible  to  speak  in  too  flattering  terms.  The  amount 
of  useful  information  it  contains  is  immense.  No  otlier  work  so  gigantic  has 
ever  bet'ti  conceived,  much  less  executed,  by  any  p  ..blisher  within  the  Domin- 
ion.—7V«<^  Witness,  Montreal. 

The  Domiriion  Directory  contains  information  of  the  most  valuable  descrip- 
tion. It  reflects  tlie  utmost  credit  not  only  on  the  publisher,  but  upon  the 
Dominion  of  Canada.— CViMJ't7t  Observer,  Montreal. 

This  great  and  valuable  work  is  published.  It  contains  a  vast  amount  of 
information  and  interesting  matter.  We  aie  '  ?-e  that  the  people  of  the 
Dominion  will  feel  justly  proud  of  this  M-oik.  -ii.        "al  Hearthstone. 

From  evc-y  source,  the  praise,  not  only  due  to  tuu  ok  itself  but  to  those 
•who  produced  it,  is  emphatic,  undisguised,  and  ungrudging.  Tlie  object  of  the 
publisher  was  to  produce  a  trustworthy  work,  and  no  lias  sn.'ceeded  to 
the  astonishment  of  all  who  know  the  difficulty  of  such  an  undertaking.  It 
IB  a  storehouse  of  information  respecting  the  trading  capabilities  of  British 
America.— Z>at7i/  News.  Montreal. 

The  publisher  of  this  useful  work  has  accomplished  his  herculean  task  in  a 
most  satisfactory  manner.— Quefiw  Gazette. 

The  Dominion  Directory  has  Impressed  us  with  the  great  usefulness  of  the 
information  contained  In  it.— Quebec  Mercury. 

The  Directory  Is  replete,  from  the  first  page  to  the  last,  with  valuable  infor- 
mation connei-ted  with  tlie  country  and  its  history.  To  the  statesman  and 
statistician  who  desire  Information  on  the  progress  of  Canada  in  population, 
industry  and  wealth,  the  book  will  be  of  great  vaXae.— Quebec  Chronicle. 

C'est  nn  Immense  volume  rempll  de  renselgnements  de  tous  genres,  qui  le 
rendent  Indispensable  aux  homines  d'affaires.— yoi«'«aZ  de  Quebec. 

Apres  avoir  parcouru  k  la  hate  I'almanach  nous  pouvons  d'.re  que  M.  Lovell 
a  parfaltement  attelnt  son  but  et  <)ue  son  ouvrage  contlennent  autant  de 
renselgnements  que  les  plus  exigeants  peuvent  en  attendre  d'une  publication 
de  ce  genre. — Courrier  du  Canada,  Quebec. 

L'ouvrage  est  un  monument  national,  qui  devra  subsister  et  que  chacun  est 
appele  a  soutenlr. — L' Evenement,  Quebec. 

Our  surprise  was  great  when  we  beheld  a  noble  volume  such  as  has  never 
issued  from  the  Canadian  press.  In  respect  of  commercial  Impoi-tance.  The 
book  is  not  only  an  honour  to  Canada,  but  a  monument  to  the  enterprise,  skill 
and  perseverance  of  John  Lovell.    We  fervently  trust  that  he  has  not  mis- 


tai<en  M«( 
him  a  l.'i-j 
piiljlic— ; 


The  Dir 
nitnde  of 

.1  work.—. 

It  is  a  f 
pu.vraiitee 
will  make 

The  pub 
his  taok  in 
reliable  ch 

1'he  pub 
We  hcartil 

It  is  repl 
to  be  contn 
extensive  j 
Express.  , 

The  Dire 
of  books, 
will  be  fou 
tend  to  ma 
known  to  e 

Lovell's  I 
gigantic  un 

"The  bn( 
without  the 
published  ir 

Tlie  work 
Doiniiiioii,  b 

The  publi! 
be  exceeded 
within  the  r 
volume  is  in 

The  Domii 
and  must  \xc, 
Colonial  iStai 


The  object 
pre;;ent  a  hai 
usefulness  by 
is  not  a  bool 
envjrs  in  it,  b 
of  the  work.- 

The  Domin 
a  book  of  gre 
which  it  cont 

That  such  £ 
of  the  marve 


"  ■ 4liiininui» 


PROVINCE  OF  NOVA  SCOTIA. 

n  IS  a  .  nmprehensive  and  valimblo  work.    Mr  LovpH's  noaf  «n•„,.^„ 
Ruaraiitee  th.it  the  br)ok  is  as  coniDlete  am    a ^n,.."J „i     ^    ?*  ?     ,  "^'^  "■''®  » 
will  make  u.-Monnnff  Clu-oniJe  Hu^f^ax  "''''^  '''  *  painstaking  labor 

The  publisher  of  this  very  volnminousand  most  nsefnl  work  lii^nornnnr^iiou  a 
his  taok  in  a  most  crerlltable  manner  The  n mm,,  V  nf  V.X^  l^  acromplished 
reliable  character  is  invaluabTe!-^.;/,/ai'c!S        "''^°'"'''"""  °*  *  «t"c"y 

ext.,^ve  patronage.    His  enterprise  and  labor  m.i^T-S;^'''!^^ 

will  be  found  an  esientl.il  to  every  man  of  Sisiues  within  fh.  n^"""-  '•'"'"•  " 
toiul  to  make  the  inhabitants  of  the  d  ffc^cS  Son.  S  tho  n  *"•"  •"'''',^'  ''"^ 
known  to  cich  ot\iov.~ British  Cololii  HaUfal  *^'  Dommion  better 


Lovell's  Dominion  Directors'  is  the  l>io-t7fi;+  k^^^v  ,„„  ,, 
gigantic  undertaking.-CV../S/«riife;*  'm^i/al!^^'"'  ""'^  '''''' 


It  was  a 


published  in  Canada."-^6.;a(«e;  ,IIan)aT^  ioiportant  volume  ever 

The  work  is  got  up  in  good  style  and  in  a  maniipr  thnf  rnfl<.«f=        ^-^  ^ 
Dominion,  and  particuL.ly  to  tL  establisireS^Mx?!  W?l^-^^^^^^^^^^^ 

be'^j^t^^zs^SSiSSSSt^Sir'^v^r*  '"^^^^  *^ 

within  the  next  twenty  years.    Tlie  amount  of^nfnm»,/-'^^^*^  ^"r  Published 
volume  isinvaUiable.-ra,v«o««/rrnCr  ^"^"^mation  contained  in  the 

Tlie  Dominion  Directory  is  a  ponderous  booV  n.K-.„f  d^  t i,      •    .,  . 

and  must  h..ve  entailed  an  enormous  outlay  on  the  part  of  Jh^lM 
Colonial  Standard,  Pictou.  ^         ^  P^"  ^^  ^^^  publisher.— 

PROVINCE  OP  NEW  BUUNSWICK. 
The  object  of  the  publisher  in  incurring  the  erreat  exDPnq<>  nf  ««n  oaa 
pre..ent  a  hand-book  which  is  not  likely  to  be  exSed^  ?n  t?,J.  'k'^'' ''''^^  ^^^ 
usefulness  by  any  book  likely  to  bep^^blished  witMn  th.  nlvf  ;^  '^^^''^''  ^"^ 
is  not  a  book  for  one  class:  but  is^adaptS  for  a  Sf  coursX".*!^''''''  " 
en-urs  in  it,  but  they  are  of  a  trivial  char^ter  Pomna^in  •*.!  'i^®"^®  ^''^  ^^^ 
of  the  work.-<S<.  John  Daily  Telegraph  ^^^Pared  with  the  solid  merits 

The  Dominion  Directory  is  a  stupendous  undprtatin<T     Tf  jo  • 
a  book  of  great  utility  and  public  con veni^iS      The  kinnVnV./^^P'^^'P^''* 
which  it  contains  is  vast.-i^.  John  Daily  oZe'.  '  "*  ^formation 

That  such  a  compilation  of  facts  -jliould  be  due  to  the  PffnW-a  «f  «^^« 
Of  the  marvels  of  our  time.    The  Canadian  who  pSniSs'Lok  ^Sko^gl 


6 


ignornnt  of  his  country.  A  work  of  mirh  maprnitudo,  conipilod  with  mnrh  raro 
and  hibor,  Ih  put  within  tiio  rcncii  of  all  for  tho  paltrv  Huin  of  $\'2.  It  is  l'h/,i  tteor 
hi8toi-y,  and  directory  combined.— 7%e  Adcertistr,  St.  John. 

Wo  have  roccivod  a  cony  of  tlii-<  inonatcr  book,  tho  most  complete  work  of  its 
kind  over  published.— A/o;7(«//f/  Freeimtn,  Ht.  .luhii. 

The  innnenHo  amount  of  labor  connected  with  tlio  collectinK'  of  tho  mass  of 
information  contained  in  this  volume  is  almost  br>voud  comin-olicn-iion      It  is 
one  of  th(f  mf)st  valuable  books  of  information  published  within  the  Don'iinion 
— Masonic  Mitror,  St.  John, 

It  is  an  enormous  tome,  equal  to  the  bulk  of  three  respectable-Kizcd  volumes 
rolle(l  into  one.  It  reflects  p:reat  credit  on  the  energy  and  resources  of  Mr. 
hovclh—IIead  Quarters,  Fretlerkton. 

Every  business  man  should  be  the  possessor  of  this  work  ;  as  a  reference  in 
conductuiK  counuercial  operations  it  will  be  found  a  valuable  aid.  Tin-  luib- 
lislierhas  been  to  tn-eat  expense  in  furnishing  what  we  couKidi-r  the  best  Direc- 
tory ever  offered  to  the  people.— C^mo/t  Advocate,  Newcastle. 

As  anticipated,  it  is  the  best  and  most  accurate  work  ever  imblishod  in  the 
Dominion.  The  amount  of  valuable  information  it  contains  uuikes  it  invalu- 
able.—7V(t'  Times,  St.  Stephen. 

Wo  are  in  receipt  of  a  copy  of  this  Monster  Book,  It  should  be  on  the  desk 
of  every  busnicss  nuui  in  the  couwtvy. —  Carleton  Sentinel,  Woodstock. 

Mr.  Lovell  may  well  feel  proud  of  his  success,  and  we  hojie  that  the  pecu- 
niary compensation  of  the  book  may  be  commensurate  with  its  merits  and  its 
importance.  It  is  the  best  book  of  reference  published.— <SY.  Croix  Courier.  St. 
/Stephen.  ' 

The  design,  scope,  and  character  of  this  Mork  fullv  answer  tho  expecta- 
tions formed  of  it.  No  trouble  or  expense  has  been  spared  to  make  it  complete 
and  reliable.— 2%e  Times,  Moncton. 


PROVINCE  OF  NEWFOUNDLAND. 

A  most  niagniflcent  work,  containing  a  vast  amount  of  reliable,  statistical  and 
general  information,  and  quite  a  desideratum  to  men  of  business,  and  of  vast 
importance  to  all  who  take  an  interest  in  the  progress  of  the  British  Provinces 
in  the  Western  World.  It  is  infinitely  superior  to  any  publication  of  a  similar 
character  that  has  emanated  from  the  Colonial  press.— TAe  Courier,  St.  John's. 

_  The  book  is  beautifully  printed  on  excellent  paper,  and  is  a  credit  to  the  pub- 
lisher and  the  whole  Dominion,  and  should  tind  a  place  in  every  library  and 
counting-house.— 77/e  Telegraph,  St.  John's. 

The  Dominion  Directory  is  indeed  a  tremendously  heavy  publication,  and  as 
the  Provincial  Directory  rests  with  tho  Dominion  on  our  table,  we  are  at  once 
reminded  of  a  little  dingy  alongside  of  a  majestic  frigate.— TVfe  Times,  St.  John's. 

The  work  in  its  compilation  and  printing  has,  we  believe,  cost  the  publisher 
$80,000  ;  and  this  in  itself  is  a  guarantee  that  every  endeavor  has  been  made, 
and  no  expense  spared,  to  make  it  as  reliable  and  as  general  in  its  infonnation 
as  possible.  We  do  not  think  that  any  work  of  a  similar  descri])tion,  embracing 
60  many  points  of  usefulness  and  so  vast  and  general  in  its  information,  has 
been  ever  before  issued  fi-om  the  press,  anywhere.  We  cannot  but  esteem  it  as 
a  credit  to  the  Dominion  and  a  source  of  satiFfaction  to  all  British  America, 
that  such  a  work  should  be  sent  forth  from  her  presses.— /?ova;  Gazette,  St. 
Johns. 


The  work  teems  with  useful  infonnation  for  the  past,  present  and  future. 
is  truly  wonderful.— //arior  Grace  Standard. 


It 


)1 


PROVINCE  OF  PllINCE  EDWAUD  ISLAND. 

A  PTcat  ^('vlc  of  reffronro.  of  which  any  country  mftrht  fool  proud.  It 
contdinsa  V(  ly  Invtre  amount  of  valnuhlo  iiifonndtion,  and  certain  facts  and 
rtatistlcH  wlilch  our  bualnoss  men  will  flud  of  great  advantage.— /i'.f«/////«'r, 
CAarloth'toton, 

Thf  Directory  is  the  result  of  a  largo  amount  of  mental  and  physical  lahor. 
It  in  filled  Willi  information  of  tin  moHt  valuable  kind,  and  an  accurate  as  the 
nature  of  the  work  would  po<^Tiit.^The  Islander,  CharlotteUmn. 

UNITED  .STATES. 

Ro  prodlpioufl  a  volume,  in  point  of  thickness  at  least,  never  came  into  our 
possession  before.  IJut  if  the  book  is  gigantic,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  labor 
that  produced  it  and  the  enterprise  that  planned  it  ?  The  value  of  such  a  work 
to  any  person  either  having  or  desiring  to  establish  buyiness  relations  with  the 
people  of  Canada  could  not  easily  be  estimated.  But  this  vast  directory  of 
names  is  not  a  II  that  tlie  wurk  cont.iins.  !■  =  i  niaga/aneof  almost  every  other 
kind  of  information  conceniinirthe  Domiuioii  that  can  be  souglit  for.  In  fact, 
there  seems  to  be  nothing  vvh  'h  anybody  can  want  to  know,  so  far  as  Canada 
is  concerned,  that  IMr.  Lovell's  book  is  not  ready  to  furnish.— /y////W/o  h.iprejis. 

This  work  is  a  roniai-kable  «  idence  of  Canadian  industry  ai'id  enteri)rise. 
The  volume  looks  ke  a  directory  of  London,  and  is  remarkably  well  printed 
and  bound.  It  is  a  noble  monument  of  Mr.  Lovell's  enteri>rise,  and  we  trust  it 
will  prove  a  financial  success.  It  certainly  dererves  to  be.  Every  person  in 
~"  "  .^.f-... .1^1.  11.^  11 I. 1- 1,'       _ 1. 


tne  United  States  having  business  with  the  rrovinces  should  secure  acojiy  of 
public  libraries  shoukl  be  8upi)lied  with  it,— Daily  Eastern  Arints, 


it,  and  all  publi 
jfortland,  Maine. 


GHEAT  BRITAIN  AND  IRELAND. 


It  is  a  book  which  many  in  this  country  are  likely  to  find  of  great  use  for 
daily  reference,  and  which  a  great  many  otlu.Ts  would  do  well  to  refer  to  f)cca- 
sioimlly  for  more  precise  information  about  British  North  America  than  is 
else\vhero  procurable.— r/ie  Exainiuer,  London. 

WTien  we  reflect  on  the  vast  extent  of  tci  ritory  which  comes  within  the  scope 
of  the  book,  and  on  the  great  difficulty  there  must  have  been  in  procuring  the 
necessary  information,  we  are  astonished  that  the  enterprise  was  undertaken, 
much  more  that  it  has  been  successfully  caiTied  out.  Tlie  volume  need  not 
tear  comparison  vvitl  the  old  established  directories  which  flourish  on  this  side 
of  the  Atlantic.     Thi-  Athenwum,  London. 

This  handsome  volume,  as  bulky  as  the  London  Post  Office  Directory,  is  a 
monument  to  the  perseverance  of  its  projector,  Mr.  Joiin  Lovell,  of  Montreal, 
Canada.  This  indefatigable  gontlenian  has  spared  no  i)ains  to  render  his  w  ork 
thoroughly  accurate,  and  having,  no  doubt,  secured  that  result,  the  Dominion 
Directory  will  prove  a  most  uscfiM  and  reliable  guide  to  our  fellow-subjects  of 
the  Dominion,  and  those  here  \\;io  have  business  or  other  transactions  with 
them.  We  sincerely  congratulate  Mr.  Lovell  on  the  siu'cessfnl  termination  of 
his  immense  labors,  and  trust  that  he  will  be  amply  rewarded  for  th^m.— Public 
Opinion,  London. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  comprehensive  directories  we  have  seen.  Its  chief 
specialty  consists  in  the  vast  amount  of  information  here  given,  whicli  ia 
conspicuous  by  its  absence  in  ordinary  directories  ;  for  instance,  we  have  here 
details  respecting  the  railways  and  steamboat  conveyance,  wherever  they  exist 
in  the  Canadian  Dominion,  as  Avell  as  respecting  the  religious  societies,  the 
pros*,  the  Government,  and  custom  houses,  and  inventions  patented. 
Another  extremely  interesting  feature  of  the  work,  and  not  less  valuable,  is  the 
nistorical  sketch  with  which  the  A^ork  is  prefaced.  We  can  confidently  recom- 
mend the  work  as  a  most  trustworthy  authority  on  every  point  on  which  it 
protesses  to  be  a  guide. —Evenm/j  Standard,  London. 


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8 


Tlte  sij:e  of  tlie  book  i^  quiie  ou)l)l''roa,i,ic  of  the  vast  erleat  of  llic  Dominion, 
and  we  slionlcl  tliink  an  in^po'ilon  of  it  mu  t  spo^Oily  modify  the  views  of 
luanv  with  rogaitl  to  the  iimiguifl<  ixnce  of  C.i.udti  in  respoct  of  the  population, 
and  the  energy  of  the  i;olouist=,  li)  is  excf feelingly  Avell  sot  lip,  neatly  printed, 
and  most  useful  as  a  book  of  reference.— C««rt6'/«tt  News,  London. 

This  extraordinary  production  ha«  just  appeared.  We  take  great  pleasure 
in  directing  attention  to  the  wonderful  enterprise  of  its  compiler,  printer  and 
publisher.  We  have  tested  its  accuracy  as  far  as -our  o-vvn  personal  knowledge 
of  Canada  and  Canadians  go,  and  we  have,  in  every  instance,  found  it  true  and 
faithful  in  a  remarkable  degree.  All  honor  to  Mr.  John  Lovell.— P<'i«'e'*< 
Register,  London. 

Such  a  mass  of  iuformatiun  renders  detailed  criticism  impossible.  All  that 
f  .iu  be  said  is  that  Mr.  Lovell,  tlic  compiler,  assures  us  that  no  labor  or  expense 
Ins  been  spared  to  ensure  the  compifteness  of  his  work,  and  the  high  character 
of  his  .x"ent;3  in  England—MesA's.  Kelly  &  Co.,  the  well-known  dir-ctory  pub- 
liahev—  -'curPH  attention  to  his  statement.  The  get-up  of  the  book  and  the 
general  arrangement  of  its  contents  are  equally  gooii.— Daily  Post,  Liverpool. 

This  is  a  stupendous  compilation,  and  every  line  of  it  is  a  fact.  Ifc  is  highly 
sn-'-estive  too,  aiid  in  the  hands  of  the  trader,  the  merchant,  and  all  seeking 
iaformatiou  as  to  the  outlets  of  trade,  may  be  turned  to  good  account.  This 
Dir-ctory  should  certainly  be  in  tue  hands  of  every  exporter  in  the  United 
Kia^^dom  It  is  got  up  regardless  of  expense,  and  is  free  from  those  contrac- 
tions so  pu7//,lin"'  in  our  home  durectories.  To  the  emigrant  or  small  capitalist 
Becking  an  outlet  for  his  labor  or  capital  this  work  will  prove  invaluable.— 
^'Juropean  Mail,  Liverpool. 

This  is  an  enormous  book,  being  a  directory,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  for 
the  whole  of  Canada-an  immense  Dominion,  as  everybody  knows,  dotted  with 
thriving  towns  and  growing  villages.  Its  publication  is  opportune,  Canada  is 
comin"'  "  to  the  front"  more  decidedly  than  she  has  yet  done  as  a  North  Ameri- 
can State  Lovell's  Directory  of  the  Canadian  Dominion  does  all  that  can  be 
done  i'or  meivhant,  manufacturer,  farmer,  agent,  and  professional  man.  In 
compass  it  exceeds  all  similar  volumes— at  least  we  know  of  none  that  can 
compare  with  it  in  size  or  comprehensiveness.— iV/u«c/ie5<er  Guardian. 

The  most  amazing  work  of  the  kind  we  have  seen  for  a  long  time  is  the  new 
Dominion  Diractory.  As  a  work  of  reference  to  all  interested  in  colonization, 
emiaratlon,  and  the  future  of  the  British  provinces  in  America,  it  must  certain- 
ly prove  invaXnahle.— Manchester  Daily  Examiner  and  Times. 

A  nonderous  volune.  Its  compilation  must  have  been  a  great  undertaking. 
Those  who  do  busimss  with  Canada  will  doubtless  find  the  work  a  valuable 
adjunct  to  their  counting  howaa.—SheJield  and  Rotherham,  Independant. 

The  Canadian  Dominion  Directory  is  in  t^°t  the  largest  work  of  the  kind 
ever  produced,  rivalling,  if  not  excelling,  the  London  Post  Office  Dii^ctory. 
We  acc^t  without  he^tation  Mr.  Lovell's  assertion  that  neither  trouble  nor 
expense  has  been  spared  to  give  the  people  cf  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  and  the 
Provinces  of  NeXundland  and  Prince  Edward  Island  a  reliable  Directory ; 
and  believe  that  the  work  must  be  simply  invaluable  to  all  tliose  in  the  mother 
Sonnti-y  who  have  business  relations  with  the  Bominion.-Leeds  Mercury. 

This  huge  imperial  octavo  volume  is  probably  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
flttemots  Iver  niade  in  the  production  of  Directories.  It  is  really  a  national 
nnSSin-  It  should  with  us  find  a  place  in  all  post,  telegraph,  shippins^ 
?ai?Sy  and^m^-aS  offices ;  in  our  principal  libraries  and  courts  of  law,  »nd 
newIrLms  for  general  reference.-iVor^A  British  Daily  Mai,  Glasgow. 

The  volume  is  brimful  of  information,  got  up  at  enormous  labor  and 
expense.  To  parties  at  all  interested  in  Canada,  it  would  be  a  most  valuable 
acquisition  to  their  library.— //a/ni«on  Adoertmr,  Scotland. 

This  massive  and  comprehensive  volume  will  be  anxiously  sought  for  by  the 
Irish  public  generally,  and  those  who  have  relatives  in  any  of  the  Canadian 
provinces,  in  particular.— Zi/neric*  Chronicle. 


at  of  llic  Dominion, 
modify  the  views  of 
:t  of  the  popnlfition, 
t  lip,  neatly  printed, 
jondon. 

take  great  pleasure 
ompiler,  printer  and 
personal  knowledge 
ce,  f  onnd  it  true  and 
n  Itov e>\\.—Pnnteri 

npossible.  All  that 
;  no  labor  or  expense 
id  the  high  character 
lown  dir-^ctory  pub- 
of  the  book  and  the 
\,ily  Post,  Lioerpool. 
a  fact.  Ifc  ia  highly 
ant,  and  all  seeking 
;ood  account.  This 
orter  in  the  United 
from  those  contrac- 
it  or  small  capitalist 
prove  invaluable. — 


ense  of  the  word,  for 
r  knows,  dotted  with 
pportune.  Canada  is 
ne  as  a  North  Ameri- 
does  all  that  can  be 
fofessional  man.  In 
)W  of  none  that  can 
r  Ouardian. 

long  time  is  the  new 

sted  in  colonization, 

irlca,  it  must  certain- 

es. 

a  great  undertaking. 

the  work  a  valuable 

i  Indepeiidant. 

est  work  of  the  kind 
ost  Oflace  Directory, 
t  neither  trouble  nor 
m  of  Canada,  and  the 
a  reliable  Directory ; 
I  those  in  the  mother 
-Leeds  Mercury. 
;he  most  remarkable 
t  is  really  a  national 
telegraph,  shipping, 
nd  courts  of  law,  »nd 
til,  Glasgow. 

snormous  labor  and 

d  be  a  most  valuable 

d. 

sly  sought  for  by  the 

my  of  the  Canadian 


